LIVES OF SAINT THOMAS MORE

PRICE CATEGORY Q]

fr * *

LIVES OF SAINT THOMAS MORE
By William Roper and Nicholas
Harpsfield

EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
E. E. REYNOLDS

All subsequent biographies have depended upon
these sixteenth-century Lives of Saint Thomas
More, who, facing his executioner, said : Pluck
up thy spirits, man, and be not afraid to do
thine office; my neck is very short; take heed
therefore thou strike not awry, for saving of
thine honesty. But there is more to this great
man (as these two intimate biographies
establish) than the heroic words that history
records from him on the scaffold and during
his long trial.

The two Lives, edited for Everyman s
Library by E. E. Reynolds, together present
every facet of the saint s character. William
Roper asked Nicholas Harpsfield to write an
account of the liic and works of his father-in-
law, Sir Thomas More, and he jotted down
himself some recollections for Harpsfield s use.
These have become a classic in their own right,
providing first-hand information about More
and his family, acquired during the ten years
or so that Roper spent in their home at
Chelsea.

Harpsfield s Life, much fuller in content than
Roper s short biography, was first published in
19312, and appears in Everyman s Library for
the first time. Harpsfield, called fi the first
modern biographer , not only made full use of
Roper s recollections, but was also in close
touch with such members of More s circle as
William Rastell and John Clement. The
detailed account he gives of More s involved

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DATE DUE

Dt-mro, Iric U8-P93

92 H836r 63-23855

Roper

Lives of Saint Thomas Mere

EVER YMAN, I will go with thee,

and be thy guide.
In thy most need to go by thy side

JUN -1 " i : )77

AUC 1 ." 1981

WILLIAM ROPER

Born about 1495. In 1521 he married More s

daughter Margaret, M.P. for Bramber 1529,

Rochester 1554, Canterbury 1555 and 1558,

Died in 1578.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD

Born in 1519, Educated at Winchester and

New College, Oxford. Archdeacon of Canter*

bury, 1554. Imprisoned in the Fleet from

1559 until his death in 1575.

WILLIAM ROPER &
NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD

Lives of
Saint Thomas More

EDITED WITH
AN INTRODUCTION BY

E. E, REYNOLDS

DENT: LONDON

EVERYMAN S LIBRARY

DUTTON: NEW YORK

<g) Texf ami Introduction*
y, M. Dent & Sons Ltd,
All rights reserved
Made in Great Britain

at the
Aldine Press Lctchworth *

J. M. DENT & SONS LTD

Aldint Ihmc * Bedford Street London

First published in Kwrytnatfs Lihrary 1963

NO, 19

INTRODUCTION

THE TWO Lives of Saint Thomas More printed in this volume
me closely connected. William Roper asked Nicholas Harpsfield
to wnte an account of the life and works of Sir Thomas More,
and, to help him, wrote down his own recollections of his father-
m-iaw. Harpsfield incorporated these m his book, but m spite of
this, Roper s memoir is a classic in its own right, its freshness is
sometimes lost in the larger book The memoir is not strictly
speaking & biography; thus Roper left Harpsfield to deal with
such matters as More s writings and controversies while he him
self concentiated on lecordmg, m his own vivid fashion, incidents
and conversations that icmamed clear m his memory. Without
this small book our knowledge of Sir Thomas More would be
much the poorer, it would still be possible, fiom other sources,
to write an account of his public life and of his trial and execution,
but we should lack those many intimate details of his family life
and of his personality that have made him something more than
a great historical figure.

Professor R. W. Chambers called Harpsfield the first modem
biographer , but this book, so stiangely neglected for over three
centuries, is far more than an mteiestmg specimen of a hteiary
form. Harpsfield was m close touch not only with Roper but with
other members of the More circle, who were able to give him
information at first hand, and in consequence the book has an
authority of its own

The evidence for the year of William Roper s birth is indecisive,
some time within the pcuod 1493 to 1498 is indicated His family
on both sides had been long established m Kent. His father, John
Roper, was a distinguished lawyer and held the position of
Prothonotary, or chief clerk, of the King s Bench Court. He was
a close friend and fellow magistrate of John More, the father of
Thomas. When William Roper, following m his father s steps,
entered Lincoln s Inn at the end of 1518, he became a member of
Thomas Morc s household. This was in the manner of the time,
Moic himself had lived in Cardinal Morton s household. By 1518

Vi INTRODUCTION

More had become a member of the King s (Privy) Council and
for eight years had been an under-sheriff of London, where his
legal services were much sought after by the City Companies* He
had been on two embassies abroad, during the first of which he
had planned his Utopia. It was greatly to the advantage of a
young law student to live in the company of such a distinguished
member of the profession.

At that period Thomas More was living at The Old Barge in
Bucklersbury. 1 The family consisted of his second wife, Alice, and
the children of his first wife Margaret, Elizabeth, Cecily and
John. In addition there were his step-daughter, Alice Middlcton,
as well as Margaret s foster-sister, Margaret Giggs (later married
to John Clement, the tutor), and a young ward, Anne Cresacre,
who married John More.

William iLoper and Margaret More were married on 2nd July
1521 at St Stephen s, Walbrook. She was about ten years younger
than her husband and was already an accomplished scholar* Five
children survived her, Elizabeth, Mary, Thomas, Margaret and
Anthony. The order of their births is not known, but the eldest
son, Thomas, was not born until 1534.

Harpsfield records a surprising fact that could only have been
communicated to him by Roper himself; at the time of his
marriage Roper was a marvellous zealous Protestant*, The term
* Protestant is here an anachronism; Roper had evidently been
attracted by the teachings of the * known men*, the successors of
the Lollards. How he was brought back to the orthodox faith is
narrated by Harpsfield.

The Ropers continued to live with Sir Thomas More after their
marriage, though, no doubt, with visits to his family home at
Well Hall, Eltham. So, too, when More went to Chelsea about
1523, they, and the other married children, became part of what
may be described as a patriarchal household.

Most of Roper s recollections refer to the ten years or so spent
in More s Chelsea home. Meanwhile he was prospering in his
profession; in turn he filled positions of responsibility at Lincoln s
Inn, becoming a bencher in 1535, He was associated with his
father in the post of Prothonotary and succeeded him in 1524* In
due course William Roper, in his turn, passed on the office to his
son Thomas, The Ropers were a landed family and William added

1 The site is now covered by Bucklersbury House, The temple of Mithras
unearthed in 1954 was probably under More * garden,

INTRODUCTION Vii

considerably to their possessions; at his death he had estates in
four counties as well as property in London and Canterbury.

After he had resigned the lord chancellorship, Sir Thomas
More made over part of his Chelsea estate to the Ropers. It was
a corner bounded by the present Old Church Street and Cheyne
Walk; Danvers Street passes over the site, but the position of the
house cannot now be determined; it was probably an extension of
More s New Buildings. This small property was known as But-
close, and there the Ropers remained until Margaret s death at
Christmas 1544. Three years later Roper gave up Butclose and
with William Rastell (More s nephew) he leased Crosby Place.
His children were probably brought up at Well Hall.

He took the oath of supremacy; but he did not conform,
though the earliest record of trouble for not attending his parish
church does not come until 1569. No doubt his official position
and his standing in Kent protected him. Nor did he leave the
country with the Rastells and Clements in 1549. They returned
when Mary became queen. Roper was Sheriff of Kent in 1553 and
during Mary s reign he represented first Rochester and then
Canterbury in Parliament.

While he himself lived quietly, he gave generous help to those
Catholics who were imprisoned or who had fled abroad. The
Rastells and Clements and other members of the More circle
finally left the country in 1563, but again Roper remained in
England. He was called before the Privy Council in July 1568 for
having helped to finance the publications of Catholic exiles from
Oxford who wrote in defence of the faith. It seems that he also
materially helped in the foundation of the English College and
Seminary at Douay.

William Roper died on 4th January 1578 when he was well
over eighty years of age, A sentence in his will reads: And my
body to be buried at Chelsea in the County of Middlesex in the
vault with the body of my dearly loved wife (whose soul our Lord
pardon) where my father-in-law, Thomas More (whose soul Jesus
bless) did mind to be buried.*

. His desire was not carried out; he was buried in the Roper
vault at St Dunstan s, Canterbury; in the same vault rests the
head of Saint Thomas More.

Nicholas Harpsfield was born in London in 1519 and was
educated at Winchester and New College, Oxford. He was

Viil INTRODUCTION

appointed a perpetual Fellow in 1534; three years later his
younger brother, John, also became a Fellow- It is not known
when Nicholas was ordained priest, but presumably it must have
been before he became a Fellow of his college. He fled from
England in 1550 as he could not accept the Edwardian changes
in religion; he went to Louvain and there joined the members of
the More circle who had gone into exile "Bonvisi, the Clements
and the Rastells. This association had an important bearing on
his Life of More, for he must often have discussed with his fellow
exiles the events that led to the execution of More; they must
often have recalled their happy memories of Bucklersbury and
Chelsea. The younger man no doubt listened with avidity to all
that they could tell him of the man they so greatly revered. It was
a pity that he did not record more details of what he then heard.
For instance, in a passage in the Life referring to Bonvisi (p, 129),
Harpsfield mentions discussions between Sir Thomas More,
Thomas Cromwell and Bonvisi, but tantalizingly, and to our great
loss, he does not give any account of these notable conversations.

Harpsfield returned to England on the accession of Mary and,
in March 1554, was appointed Archdeacon of Canterbury and a
prebendary of St Paul s Cathedral, Three of his Visitation
Returns are extant; these show how assiduous he was in carrying
out his duties and in trying to restore full Catholic worship. It
was impossible to repair all the material damage done to the
churches, but a determined effort was made to trace altar vessels,
missals and other property that had been removed or simply
stolen during the previous reign.

Cardinal Pole had great confidence in Harpsfield and made
good use of his services; had both the cardinal und the queen not
died in 1558, there can be little doubt that the archdeacon would
have become a bishop.

He could not accept Elizabeth as Supreme Governor of the
Church in England, nor could he conform to the new order im
posed by the Act of Uniformity, He was deprived in 1559, and
with his brother, imprisoned in the Fleet, where they remained
twelve years. During this period, as the Bpistle Dedicatory tells
us, he was generously supported by William Roper.

Nicholas Harpsfield died on 18th December 1575,

It would have been dangerous during the reigns of Henry VIII
and Edward VI to have published any defence of Sir Thomas

INTRODUCTION IX

More. The exiles at Louvain probably discussed the possibility of
a complete edition of his works, and they would also consider how
best to put on record a full account of More s life and a vindication
of his name; this was an urgent matter, as the number of those
who had known him was being decreased by death. The accession
of Mary made it possible to carry out both projects. William
Rastell, as his uncle s former printer, edited the English Works,
and the folio was published in 1557 just in time! He also wrote
a book on More and Fisher but only the part relating to Fisher
has been preserved. William Roper was obviously the best person
to write a life of More; he was not only the husband of More s
favourite daughter, but he had shared the family life for over
sixteen years. He was unable to undertake such a task; perhaps
this was through diffidence or through pressure of his affairs. He
was responsible, however, for choosing Nicholas Harpsfield as
the author. This may have been at the suggestion of the returned
exiles who would have had an opportunty of appreciating the
abilities of their young companion, but the close connection
between Roper and Canterbury may have led to the choice of the
archdeacon.

Roper, as we have seen, wrote down his own recollections to
help Harpsfield. He must have done this before the publication
of More s English Works; he refers three times to that book
(pp. 36, 41, 48), but it is not clear whether it had already been
published or was almost ready for printing. Harpsfield (p. 109)
mentions that we trust shortly to have all his English Works . ,
in print*. As he incorporated Roper s text this would suggest that
Roper was writing in 1556 and that Harpsfield began his own
book later that year or early in 1557. His references to the * great
benefits and charges he owed to Roper suggest that the Epistle
Dedicatory at least was written in prison.

Neither book is free from errors. Roper was writing from
memory twenty years after the death of More, and Harpsfield
had no precise recollection of events that occurred while he was a
boy. The errors are not serious, but the reader will find it useful
to keep an eye on the Chronology that precedes the texts to check
the order of events and some details of More s appointments.

Roper probably did not intend to publish his own recollec
tions, but Harpsfield s book would presumably have been pub
lished but for the death of the queen. As it happened it was
Roper s memoir that first appeared in print; it was published in

X INTRODUCTION

Paris 1 in 1626. Harpsfield s manuscript had a very different
history; it was not printed in full until 1932, when Dr Elsie V,
Hitchcock edited it for the Early English Text Society. Three
years later she edited Roper s memoir for the same series.

By courtesy of the Early English Text Society, the present
volume reproduces the texts established by Dr Hitchcock, but
spelling has been modernized and the cross-headings have been
added by the present editor.

E. E. REYNOLDS,

1961,

1 A false imprint; it was printed at the English College Press, $t Omer,

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

THE MANUSCRIPTS

The original manuscripts are not extant; those that exist (thirteen of
Roper and eight of Harpsfield) are late sixteenth- or early seventeenth-
century copies, or copies of copies. The difficult task of collating these has
been thoroughly carried out in the Early English Text Society s editions,
where the manuscripts are described in detail. The reader will find the
historical notes in these editions of great value.

One of the Harpstield manuscripts has a special interest; it was seized by
the notorious Richard Topclute when Thomas More (grandson of Sir
Thomas) was arrested at Greenstreet, Ley ton, in 1582.

PRINTED EDITIONS

ROPER. 1626, Paris; 1716, Oxford; 1729, London. These were imper
fect texts. During the nineteenth century the best known text was that edited
by S. W. Singer, but this was far from satisfactory. A more carefully collated
text was produced by George Sampson in 1910; this must now give way to
the E.ET.S. text of 1935.

H ARPSF1ELD. The first full printing is that of the E.ET.S. in 1932,
Harpsfield wrote a number of works in addition to the Life of More. The
only one to be printed is Treatise Touching the Pretended Divorce* published
by the Camden Society in 1878. The Catholic Record Society has published
his Visitation Returns for 1556, 1557 and 1558.

BIOGRAPHY

Thomas Stapleton, in Tres Thomae (1588) ; the life of More was translated
into English by Mgr P. E, Hallett in 1928. Stapleton was able to use letters
taken to Douay by John Harris, who had married Dorothy Colley, Margaret
Roper s maid, Mrs Harris was able to give Stapleton much first-hand
information.

Cresacre More s life of his great-grandfather was written about 1630;
for many years this was the popular biography until the publication of Fr
T. E. Bndgett s Life and Writings of Blessed Thomas More in 1891 ; this was
the first biography to make full use of the State Papers.

G. M. Routh, Sir Thomas More and his Friends, 1934; R. W. Chambers,
Thomas More, 1935; E. E. Reynolds, Saint Thomas More, 1953; Margaret
Roper, I960*

XI

CHRONOLOGY

OF THE LIFE OF SAINT THOMAS MORE

1477 or 1478, 7th Feb. Born in London.

1485? St Anthony s School.

1490? In Archbishop (Cardinal, 1493) Morton s household.

1492? Canterbury College (Christ Church), Oxford.

1494. New Inn, London.

1496. 12th Feb. Lincoln s Inn.

1497, Contributes Latin verses to Lac Puerorum.
1499. Summer. First meeting with Erasmus.

1501? Frequents the Charterhouse Called to the BarReader,
Furnival s Inn Attends Linacre s lectures on Aristotle
Translates Epigrams Lectures on St Augustine s Civitas Dei.

1503. Verses: Lamentation for the Death of Queen Elizabeth.

1504, M,P. (constituency unknown).
1505? Jan.*! Marries Jane Colt

Ocr.? Birth of Margaret.

1506. Birth of Elizabeth Luclan published Visit to sister at
Coventry.

1507. Birth of Cecily Pensioner, later butler, Lincoln s Inn.

1508. Visits Paris and Louvain.

1509. 22nd April. Death of Henry VII.

Birth of John Verses for coronation of Henry VIII Freedom
of Mercers* Company.

1510. Jan, M.P. for London.
Sept. Under-Sheriff, London.

J.P., Hampshire Life of Picas published.

1511. Aug.l Death of Jane More.

Marries Alice Middleton Autumn Reader, Lincoln s Inn.

1513. Writing Richard 111.

1514. Commissioner of Sewers Member of Doctors Commons.

1515. Jan. Welcomes Giustiniani, Venetian Ambassador Lent
Reader, Lincoln s Inn.

May to Feb. 1516. Embassy to Flanders.

1516. Utopia published in Louvain A Mery Jest.

1517. Aug. Embassy to Calais.
Councillor (King s Privy Council).

1518. Epigrammata published in Basle.

Mar. Letter to the University of Oxford Master of Court of
Requests.

July. Resigns as Under-Sheriff -Welcomes Cardinal Campeggio.
1520. Letter to a Monk.

June. Field of Cloth of Gold,
xiii

XIV CHRONOLOGY

1521. 2nd May. Succeeds Sir John Cutte (not Sir Richard Weston) as
Under-TreasurerKnighted.

July. Bruges on commercial mission,

Aus:. With Wolsey on embassy to Calais probable last meeting

with Erasmus.

1522. Writing Four Last Things.
June. Welcomes Charles V.

1523. April Speaker, House of CommonsAs Gulielmus Rosseus*
defends Henry VlIPs book.

June. Buys Crosby Place, and land in Chelsea,

1524. High Steward, Oxford University.
Moves to Chelsea.

1525. High Steward, Cambridge University.

1526. Holbein at Chelsea.

1527. July. With Wolsey on embassy to Amiens Henry consults him
on marriage.

1528. Licensed to read heretical booksbuilds More Chapel at
Chelsea.

1529. July. With Tunstail on embassy to CambraL

23rd Oct. Lord Chancellor Henry again consults him on

marriage.

Dialogue Concerning Heresies- The Supplication of Souls,

1530. John Larke presented to living at Chelsea,
Death of Sir John More,

1532. 16th May. Resigns.

Erects monument in Chelsea Church Confutation of Tyndate*

1533. The ApologyeDebellation of Salem and &izance~-Letter to
Frith Answer to . . . Poisoned Book.

1534. 21st Feb. In BUI of Attainder (Nun of Kent).
13th April. Before Commissioners at Lambeth.
17th April. Committed to Tower.

Dialogue of Comfort (published 1553).

1535. Land sequestrated.

Interrogated (30th April, 7th May, 3rd and 14th June).

1st July. Trial,

6th July. Execution.

1557. Works of Sir Thomas More, ed. William Rasteil,
1563. Latin Works of Sir Thomas More, Basle.
1886. 29th Dec. Beatification.
1935. 19th May. Canonization,

CONTENTS

Introduction v

Se/ecf Bibliography . xi

Chronology xiii

jLi/<? by William Roper I

Life by Nicholas Harpsfield . .51

xv

THE LIFE OF

SIR THOMAS MORE, KNIGHT

Written by William Roper, Esquire,

which married Margaret,

daughter of the said

Thomas More

B

FORASMUCH as Sir Thomas More, kmght, sometime Lord
Chancellor of England, a man of singular virtue and of a
clear unspotted conscience, as witnesseth Erasmus, more
pure and white than the whitest snow, and such an angelical
wit, as England, he saith, never had the like before, nor never
shall again, universally, as well m the laws of our own realm (a
study m effect able to occupy the whole life of a man) as in all
other sciences, right well studied, was in his days accounted a
man worthy of perpetual famous memory: I, William Roper,
though most unwoithy, his son-m-law by marriage to his eldest
daughter, knowing at this day no man living that of him and of
his doings understood so much as myself, for that I was con
tinually resident in his house by the space of sixteen years and
more, thought it therefore my part to set forth such matters
touching his life as I could at this present call to remembrance.
Among which things, very many notable things (not meet to have
been forgotten) through negligence and long continuance of time
are slipped out of my mind. Yet, to the intent the same should
not all utterly perish, I have at the desire of divers worshipful
friends of mine (though very far from the grace and worthiness
of them, neveitheless as far forth as my mean wit, memory and
knowledge would serve me) declared so much thereof as in my
poor judgment seemed worthy to be remembered

This Sir Thomas More, after he had been brought up in the
Latin tongue at St Anthony s m London, was by his father s
procurement received into the house of the right reverend, wise
and learned prelate, Cardinal Morton, where, though he was
young of years, yet would he at Christmas-tide suddenly some
times step in among the players, and never studying for the
matter, make a part of his own there presently among them,
which made the lookers-on more sport than all the players beside.
In whose wit and towardness the Cardinal much delighting,
would often say of him unto the nobles that divers times dined
with him, This child here waiting at the table, whosoever shall
live to see it, will prove a marvellous man.

3

4 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Whereupon for his better furtherance in learning, he placed
him at Oxford, where, when he was both in the Greek and Latin
tongue sufficiently instructed, he was then for the study of the law
of the realm, put to an Inn of Chancery called New Inn, where for
his time he very well prospered, And from thence was admitted to
Lincoln s Inn, with very small allowance, continuing there his
study until he was made and accounted a worthy Utter Barrister.

After this, to his great commendation, he read for a good space
a public lecture of St Augustine s De Civitate Dei, in the Church
of St Lawrence in the Old Jewry, whereunto there resorted
Doctor Grocyn an excellent cunning 1 man, and all the chief
learned of the City of London.

Then was he made Reader at Furnivai s Inn, so remaining by
the space of three years and more.

Marriage

After which time he gave himself to devotion and prayer in the
Charterhouse of London, religiously living there, without vow,
about four years; until he resorted to the house of one Master
Colt, a gentleman of Essex, that had oft invited him thither,
having three daughters, whose honest conversation and virtuous
education provoked him there specially to set his affection. And
albeit his mind most served him to the second daughter, for that
he thought her the fairest and best favoured, yet when he con
sidered that it would be both great grief and some shame also to
the eldest to see her younger sister in marriage preferred before
her, he then of a certain pity framed his fancy towards her, and
soon after married her; never the more discontinuing his study of
the law at Lincoln s Inn, but applying still the same until he was
called to the Bench, and had read twice, which is as often as
ordinarily any Judge of the law doth read*

Before which time he had placed himself and his wife at
Bucklersbury in London, where he had by her three daughters and
one son, in virtue ajad learning brought up from their youth,
whom he would often exhort to take virtue and learning for their
meat, and play for their sauce.

Who, ere ever he had been reader in court, was in the latter
time of King Henry VII made a burgess of the Parliament, where
in there were by the King demanded (as I have heard reported)
about three fifteenths for the marriage of his eldest daughter that

1 learned.

WILLIAM ROPER 5

then should be the Scottish Queen. At the last debating whereof
he made such arguments and reasons there against, that the
King s demands thereby were clean overthrown. So that one of
the King s Privy Chamber named Master Tyler, being present
thereat, brought word to the King out of the Parliament House
that a beardless boy had disappointed all his purpose. Whereupon
the King, conceiving great indignation towards him, could not
be satisfied until he had some way revenged it. And, forasmuch
as he nothing having, nothing could lose, His Grace devised a
causeless quarrel against his father, keeping him in the Tower
until he had made him pay to him an hundred pounds fine.

Shortly thereupon it fortuned that this Sir Thomas More,
coming in a suit to Doctor Fox, Bishop of Winchester (one of
the King s Privy Council), the Bishop called him aside, and,
pretending great favour towards him, promised him that, if he
would be ruled by him, he would not fail into the King s favour
again to restore him; meaning (as it was after conjectured) to
cause him thereby to confess his offence against the King,
whereby His Highness might with the better colour have occasion
to revenge his displeasure against him. But when he had come
from the Bishop, he fell in communication with one Master
Whitford, his familiar friend, then chaplain to that Bishop, and
after a Father of Syon, and showed him what the Bishop had said
unto him, desiring to have his advice therein; who for the Passion
of God, prayed him in no wise to follow his counsel; For my
lord, my master,* quoth he, to serve the King s turn, will not
stick to agree to his own father s death. So Sir Thomas More
returned to the Bishop no more. And had not the King soon after
died, he was determined to have gone over the sea, thinking that
being in the King s indignation, he could not live in England
without great danger.

After this he was made one of the Under-Sheriffs of London,
by which office and his learning together (as I have heard him
say) he gained without grief not so little as four hundred pounds
by the year, since there was at that time in none of the Prince s
courts of the laws of this realm, any matter of importance in
controversy wherein he was not with the one part of counsel. Of
whom for his learning, wisdom, knowledge and experience, men
had such estimation that, before he came to the service of King
Henry VIII, at the suit and instance of the English merchants, he
was, by the King s consent, made twice Ambassador in certain

6 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

great causes between them and merchants of the Steelyard ; whose
wise and discreet dealing therein, to his high commendation,
coming to the King s understanding, provoked His Highness to
cause Cardinal Wolsey (then Lord Chancellor) to procure him
to his service. And albeit the Cardinal, according to the King s
request, earnestly travailed a with him therefore, among many
other his persuasions alleging him how dear his service must
needs be unto His Majesty, which could not, with his honour,
with less than he should yearly lose thereby, seem to recompense
him. Yet he, loath to change his estate, made such means to the
King, by the Cardinal, to the contrary, that His Grace, for that
time, was well satisfied,

Privy Councillor

Now happened there after this, a great ship of his that then was
Pope to arrive at Southampton, which the King claiming for a
forfeiture, the Pope s Ambassador, by suit unto His Grace,
obtained that he might for his master the Pope have counsel
learned in the laws of this realm and the matter in his own
presence (being himself a singular 2 civilian) in some public place
to be openly heard and discussed. At which time there could none
of our law be found so meet to be of counsel with this Ambassador
as Sir Thomas More, who could report to the Ambassador in
Latin all the reasons and arguments by the learned counsel on
both sides alleged. Upon this the counsellors of either part, in
presence of the Lord Chancellor, and other the Judges, in the
Star Chamber had audience accordingly. Where Sir Thomas
More not only declared to the Ambassador the whole effect of
all their opinions, but also, in defence of the Pope s side, argued
so learnedly himself, that was the aforesaid forfeiture to the Pope
restored, and himself among all the hearers, for his upright and
commendable demeanour therein, so greatly renowned, that for
no entreaty would the King from thenceforth be induced any longer
to forbear his service. At whose first entry thereunto, he made
him Master of the Requests (having then no better room void)
and within a month after knight, and one of his Privy Council.

And so from time to time was he by the Prince advanced,
continuing in his singular favour and trusty service twenty years
and above, a good part whereof used the King upon holy-days,

1 laboured,

* of exceptional status.

WILLIAM ROPER 7

when he had done his devotions, to send for him into his travers, 1
and there sometime in matters of astronomy, geometry, divinity
and such other faculties, and sometimes of his worldly affairs, to
sit and confer with him. And other whiles would he, in the night,
have him up into his leads, 2 there for to consider with him the
diversities, courses, motions and operations of the stars and
planets. And because he was of a pleasant disposition, it pleased
the King and the Queen, after the Council had supped, at the time
of their supper, for their pleasure, commonly to call for him to be
merry with them. Whom when he perceived so much in his talk
to delight, that he could not once in a month get leave to go home
to his wife and children (whose company he most desired) and to
be absent from the court two days together, but that he should be
thither sent for again, he, much misliking this restraint of his
liberty, began thereupon somewhat to dissemble his nature, and
so by little and little from his former accustomed mirth to disuse
himself, that he was of them from thenceforth at such seasons no
more so ordinarily sent for.

Then died one Master Weston, Treasurer of the Exchequer,
whose office, after his death, the King of his own offer, without
any asking, freely gave unto Sir Thomas More.

Speaker of the House of Commons

In the fourteenth year of His Grace s reign was there a Parlia
ment holden, whereof Sir Thomas More was chosen Speaker;
who, being very loath to take that room upon him, made an
oration (not now extant) to the King s Highness for his discharge
thereof; whereunto when the King would not consent, he spake
unto His Grace in form following:

* Since I perceive, most redoubted sovereign, that it standeth
not with you high pleasure to reform this election and cause it to
be changed, but have by the mouth of the most reverend father
in God, the Legate, your Highnesses Chancellor, thereunto given
your most royal assent, and have of your benignity determined,
far above that I may bear, to enable me and for this office to
repute me meet, rather than you should seem to impute unto your
Commons that they have unmeetly chosen, I am therefore, and
always shall be, ready obediently to conform myself to the
accomplishment of your high commandment, in my most humble

1 small room screened or curtained from a main room.
* flat roof covered with lead.

8 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

wise beseeching your most noble Majesty that I may with your
Grace s favour, before I farther enter thereunto, make mine
humble intercession unto your Highness for two lowly petitions:
the one privately concerning myself, the other the whole assembly
of your Common House.

*For myself, gracious Sovereign, that if it mishap me in any
thing hereafter that is on the behalf of your Commons in your
high presence to be declared, to mistake my message, and in the
lack of good utterance, by my misrehearsal, to pervert or impair
their prudent instructions, it may then like your most noble
Majesty, of your abundant grace, with the eye of your accustomed
pity, to pardon my simpieness, giving me leave to repair again to
the Common House, and there to confer with them, and to take
their substantial advice what thing and in what wise 1 shall on
their behalf utter and speak before your noble Grace, to the
intent their prudent devices * and affairs be not by my simpieness
and folly hindred or impaired, which thing, if it should so mishap,
as it were well likely to mishap in me, if your gracious benignity
relieved not my oversight, it could not fail to be during my life
a perpetual grudge and heaviness to my heart, the help and
remedy whereof, in manner aforesaid remembered, is, most
gracious Sovereign, my first lowly suit and humble petition unto
your most noble Grace,

Mine other humble request, most excellent Prince, is this;
forasmuch as there be of your Commons, here by your high
commandment assembled for your Parliament, a great number
which are, after the accustomed manner appointed in the
Common House to treat and advise of the common affairs among
themselves apart, and albeit, most dear liege Lord, that according
to your prudent advice, by your honourable writs everywhere
declared, there hath been as due diligence used in sending up to
your Highness s Court of Parliament the most discreet persons
out of every quarter that men could esteem meet thereunto,
whereby it is not to be doubted but that there is a very sub
stantial assembly of right wise and politic persons, yet, most
victorious Prince, since among so many wise men neither is
every man wise alike, nor among so many men, like well witted,
every man like well spoken, and it often happeneth that, likewise
as much folly is uttered with painted polished speech, so many,
boisterious and rude in language, see deep indeed, and give right

1 opinions.

WILLIAM ROPER 9

substantial counsel, and since also in matters of great importance,
the mind is often so occupied in the matter that a man rather
studieth what to say than how, by reason whereof the wisest man
and the best spoken in a whole country fortuneth among, while
his mind is fervent in the matter, somewhat to speak in such wise
as he would afterward wish to have been uttered otherwise, and
yet no worse will had when he spake it, than he hath when he
would so gladly change it, therefore, most gracious Sovereign,
considering that in your High Court of Parliament is nothing
entreated but matter of weight and importance concerning your
Realm and your own royal estate, it could not fail to let and put
to silence from the giving of their advice and counsel many of
your discreet Commons, to the great hindrance of the common
affairs, except that every of your Commons were utterly dis
charged of all doubt and fear how anything that it should happen
them to speak, should happen of your Highness to be taken.
And in this point, though your well known and proved benignity
putteth every man in right good hope, yet such is the weight of
the matter, such is the reverend dread that the timorous hearts
of your natural subjects conceive toward your High Majesty, our
most redoubted King and undoubted Sovereign, that they cannot
in this point find themselves satisfied, except your gracious
bounty therein declared put away the scruple of their timorous
minds, and animate and encourage them, and put them out of
doubt* It may therefore like your most abundant Grace, our most
benign and godly King, to give to all your Commons here
assembled your most gracious licence and pardon, freely, with
out doubt of your dreadful displeasure, every man to discharge
his conscience, and boldly in everything incident among us to
declare his advice, and whatsoever happen any man to say, that
it may like your Noble Majesty, or your inestimable goodness, to
take all in good part, interpreting every man s words, how
uncunningly 1 soever they be couched, to proceed yet of good zeal
towards the profit of your Realm and honour of your royal
person, the prosperous estate and preservation whereof, most
excellent Sovereign, is the thing which we all, your most humble
loving subjects, according to the most bounden duty of our
natural allegiance, most highly desire and pray for.*

1 awkwardly.

10 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Cardinal Wolsey

At this Parliament Cardinal Wolsey found himself much
grieved with the Burgesses thereof, for that nothing was so soon
done or spoken therein but that it was immediately blown abroad
in every alehouse. It fortuned at that Parliament a very great
subsidy to be demanded, which the Cardinal fearing would
not pass the Common House, determined for the furtherance
thereof to be there personally present himself. Before whose
coming, after long debating therein, whether it were better but
with a few of his lords (as the most opinion of the House
was) or with his whole train royally to receive him there amongst
them.

4 Masters, quoth Sir Thomas More, forasmuch as my Lord
Cardinal lately, you wot x well, laid to our charge the lightness
of our tongues for things uttered out of this House, it shall not
in my mind be amiss with all his pomp to receive him, with his
maces, his pillars, his poleaxes, his crosses, his hat, and Great
Seal too, to the intent, if he find the like fault with us hereafter,
we may be the bolder from ourselves to lay the blame on those
that his Grace bringeth hither with him. Whereunto the House
wholely agreeing, he was received accordingly.

Where, after that he had in solemn oration by many reasons
proved how necessary it was the demand there moved to be
granted, and further shewed that less would not serve to maintain
the Prince s purpose, he, seeing the company sitting still silent,
and thereunto nothing answering, and contrary to his expectation
shewing in themselves towards his request no towardness of
inclination, said unto them, * Masters, you have many wise and
learned men among you, and since I am from the King s own
person sent hither unto you for the preservation of yourselves and
the Realm, I think it meet you give me some reasonable answer/
Whereat, every man holding his peace, then began he to speak to
one Master Marney (after Lord Marney), *How say you/ quoth
he, * Master Marney? Who making no answer neither, he
severally asked the same question of divers others accounted the
wisest of the company.

To whom, when none of them all would give so much as one
word, being before agreed, as the custom was, by their Speaker to
make answer, Masters,* quoth the Cardinal, unless it be the

* know.

WILLIAM ROPER II

manner of your House, as of likelihood it is, by the mouth of your
Speaker, whom you have chosen for trusty and wise, as indeed he
is, in such cases to utter your minds, here is without doubt a
marvellous obstinate silence.

And thereupon he required an answer of Master Speaker, who
first reverently upon his knees excusing the silence of the House,
abashed at the presence of so noble a personage, able to amaze
the wisest and best learned in a Realm, and after by many prob
able arguments proving that for them to make answer was it
neither expedient nor agreeable with the ancient liberty of the
House, in conclusion for himself shewed that though they had all
with their voices trusted him, yet except every one of them could
put into his one head all their several wits, he alone in so weighty
a matter was unmeet to make his Grace answer.

Whereupon the Cardinal, displeased with Sir Thomas More,
that had not in this Parliament in all things satisfied his desire,
suddenly arose and departed.

After the Parliament ended, in his gallery at Whitehall in
Westminster, uttered unto him his griefs, saying, * Would to God
you had been at Rome, Master More, when I made you Speaker.
* Your Grace not offended, so would I too, my Lord, quoth he.
And to wind such quarrels out of the Cardinal s head, he began
to talk of that gallery, and said, I like this gallery of yours, my
Lord, much better than your gallery at Hampton Court. Where
with so wisely brake he off the Cardinal s displeasant talk that
the Cardinal at that present, as it seemed, wist l not what more to
say to him. But for the revengement of his displeasure, counselled
the King to send him Ambassador into Spain, commending to
His Highness his wisdom, learning and meetness for that voyage,
and the difficulty of the cause considered, none was there, he said,
so well able to serve His Grace therein. Which, when the King
had broken to Sir Thomas More, and that he had declared unto
His Grace how unfit a journey it was for him, the nature of the
country and disposition of his complexion so disagreeing together
that he should never be likely to do His Grace acceptable service
there, knowing right well that if His Grace sent him thither, he
should send him to his grave, but shewing himself nevertheless
ready, according to his duty all were it with the loss of his life,
to fulfil His Grace s pleasure in that behalf, the King, allowing
well his answer, said unto him, *It is not our meaning, Master

1 knew.

12 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

More, to do you hurt, but to do you good would we be glad; we
will for this purpose devise upon some other, and employ your
service otherwise/

Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster

And such entire favour did the King bear him that he made
him Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, upon the death of
Sir Richard Wingfield, who had that office before.

And for the pleasure he took in his company, would His Grace
suddenly sometimes come home to his house at Chelsea, to be
merry with him; whither on a time, unlocked for, he came to
dinner to him, and after dinner, in a fair garden of his, walked
with him by the space of an hour, holding his arm about his neck.
As soon as His Grace was gone, I, rejoicing thereat, told Sir
Thomas More how happy he was whom the King had so famili
arly entertained, as I never had seen him do to any other except
Cardinal Wolsey, whom I saw his Grace once walk with, arm in
arm. *I thank our Lord, son, quoth he, *I find his Grace my very
good lord indeed, and I believe he doth as singularly favour me
as any subject within this Realm. Howbeit, son Roper, I may tell
thee I have no cause to be proud thereof, for if my head could
win him a castle in France (for then was there war between us) it
should not fail to go.

This Sir Thomas More among all other his virtues, was of such
meekness that if it had fortuned him with any learned man
resorting to him from Oxford, Cambridge or elsewhere, as there
did divers, some for desire of his acquaintance, some for the
famous report of his wisdom and learning, and some for suits of
the Universities, to have entered into argument, wherein few
were comparable unto him, and so far to have discoursed with
them therein that he might perceive they could not, without some
inconvenience, hold out much further disputation against him,
then, lest he should discomfort them, as he that sought not his
own glory, but rather would seem conquered than to discourage
students in their studies, ever shewing himself more desirous to
learn than to teach, would he by some witty device courteously
break off into some other matter, or give over.

Of whom, for his wisdom and learning, had the King such an
opinion, that at such time as he attended upon His Highness,
taking his progress either to Oxford or Cambridge, where he was
received with very eloquent orations, His Grace would always

WILLIAM ROPER 13

assign him, as one that was prompt and ready therein, ex tempore
to make answer thereunto. Whose manner was, whensoever he
had occasion, either here or beyond the sea, to be in any Univer
sity, not only to be present at the reading and disputations there
commonly used, but also learnedly to dispute among them himself.

Who, being Chancellor of the Duchy, was made Ambassador
twice, joined in Commission with Cardinal Wolsey, once to the
Emperor Charles into Flanders, the other time to the French
King into France.

Not long after this, the Water-bailiff of London, sometime his
servant, hearing, where he had been at dinner, certain merchants
liberally to rail against his old master, waxed so discontented
therewith that he hastily came to him and told him what he had
heard. And were I you, Sir, quoth he, in such favour and
authority with my Prince as you are, such men surely should not
be suffered so villainously and falsely to misreport and slander
me. Wherefore I would wish you to call them before you, and to
their shame for their lewd malice punish them/

Who, smiling upon him, said, Why, Master Water-bailiff,
would you have me punish those by whom I receive more benefit
than by you all that be my friends? Let them a* God s name speak
as lewdly as they list of me, and shoot never so many arrows at
me, as long as they do not hit me, what am I the worse? But if
they should once hit me, then would it indeed not a little trouble
me. Howbeit I trust, by God s help, there shall none of them all
once be able to touch me. I have more cause, I assure thee, Master
Water-bailiff, to pity them than to be angry with them. Such
fruitful communication had he oftentimes with his familiar friends.

So on a time, walking with me along the Thames side at
Chelsea, in talking of other things he said unto me, Now would
to our Lord, son Roper, upon condition that three things were
well established in Christendom, I were put into a sack, and here
presently cast into the Thames.*

What great things be those, Sir,* quoth I, *that should move
you so to wish?

Wouldst thou know what they be, son Roper? quoth he.

*Yea, marry, with good will, Sir, if it please you, quoth L

In faith, son, they be these, said he. *The first is, that where
the most part of Christen Princes be at mortal war, they were all
at an universal peace. The second, that where the Church of
Christ is at this present sore afflicted with many errors and

14 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

heresies, it were settled in a perfect uniformity of religion. The
third, that where the King s matter of his marriage is now come
in question, it were to the glory of God and quietness of all
parties brought to a good conclusion. 1 Whereby, as I could
gather, he judged that otherwise it would be a disturbance to a
great part of Christendom,

Thus did it by his doings throughout the whole course of his
life appear that all his travail and pains, without respect of
earthly commodities, either to himself, or any of his, were only
upon the service of God, the Prince, and the Realm, wholly
bestowed and employed, whom I heard in his later time to say
that he never asked the King himself the value of one penny.

Devotional Life

As Sir Thomas More s custom was daily, if he were at home,
besides his private prayers, with his children to say the seven
Psalms, Litany and Suffrages following, so was his guise nightly,
before he went to bed, with his wife, children and household to go
to his chapel and there upon his knees ordinarily to say certain
Psalms and collects with them. And because he was desirous for
godly purposes sometime to be solitary, and sequester himself
from worldly company, a good distance from his mansion house
builded he a place called the New Building, wherein there was a
chapel, a library and a gallery, in which, as his use was upon
other days to occupy himself in prayer and study together, so on
the Friday there usually continued he from morning till evening,
spending his time only in devout prayers and spiritual exercises.

And to provoke his wife and children to the desire of heavenly
things, he would sometimes use these words unto them:

*It is now no mastery l for you children to go to heaven, for
everybody giveth you good counsel, everybody giveth you good
example; you see virtue rewarded and vice punished, so that you
are carried up to heaven even by the chins. But if you live the
time that no man will give you good counsel, nor no man will give
you good example, when you shall see virtue punished and vice
rewarded, if yott will then stand fast and firmly stick to God,
upon pain of my life, though you be but half good, God will
allow you for the whole.

If his wife or any child had been diseased or troubled, he would
say unto them, We may not look at our pleasure to go to heaven

1 victory.

WILLIAM ROPER 15

in feather-beds; it is not the way, for our Lord himself went
thither with great pain and by many tribulations, which was the
path wherein he walked thither, for the servant may not look to
be in better case than his master.

And as he would in this sort persuade them to take their
troubles patiently, so would he in like sort teach them to with
stand the devil and his temptations valiantly, saying,

Whosoever will mark the devil and his temptations shall find
him therein much like to an ape. For like as an ape, not well
looked unto, will be busy and bold to do shrewd turns, and con
trariwise, being spied, will suddenly leap back and adventure no
farther, so the devil, finding a man idle, slothful and without
resistance ready to receive his temptations, waxeth so hardy that
he will not fail still to continue with him, until to his purpose he
have throughly brought him. But on the other side, if he see a
man with diligence persevere to prevent and withstand his
temptations, he waxeth so weary that in conclusion he utterly
forsaketh him. For as the devil of disposition is a spirit of so high
a pride that he cannot abide to be mocked, so is he of nature so
envious that he feareth any more to assault him, lest he should
thereby not only catch a foul fall himself, but also minister to the
man more matter of merit.

Thus delighted he evermore not only in virtuous exercises to
be occupied himself, but also to exhort his wife, children and
household to embrace and follow the same.

To whom, for his notable virtue and godliness, God shewed,
as it seemed, a manifest miraculous token of his special favour
towards him, at such time as my wife, as many other that year
were, was sick of the sweating sickness; who, lying in so great
extremity of that disease as by no invention or devices that
physicians in such cases commonly use (of whom she had divers
both expert, wise and well learned, then continually attendant
about her) she could be kept from sleep, so that both physicians
and all other there despaired of her recovery, and gave her over;
her father, as he that most entirely tendered her, being in no small
heaviness for her, by prayer at God s hand sought to get her a
remedy.

Whereupon going up, after his usual manner, into his aforesaid
New Building, there in his chapel, upon his knees, with tears most
devoutly besought Almighty God that it would like his goodness,
unto whom nothing was impossible, if it were his blessed will, at

I 6 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

his mediation to vouchsafe graciously to hear his humble petition.
Where incontinent came into his mind that a glister 1 should be
the only way to help her. Which, when he told the physicians,
they by and by confessed that, if there were any hope of health,
that was the very best help indeed, much marvelling of themselves
that they had not before remembered it.

Then was it immediately ministered unto her sleeping, which
she could by no means have been brought unto waking. And
abeit after that she was thereby thoroughly awaked, God s marks,
an evident undoubted token of death, plainly appeared upon her,
yet she, contrary to all expectation was, as it was thought, by her
father s fervent prayer miraculously recovered, and at length
again to perfect health restored. Whom, if it had pleased God at
that time to have taken to his mercy, her father said he would
never have meddled with worldly matters after.

Now while Sir Thomas More was Chancellor of the Duchy, the
See of Rome chanced to be void, which was cause of much
trouble. For Cardinal Wolsey, a man very ambitious, and
desirous (as good hope and likelihood he had) to aspire unto that
dignity, perceiving himself of his expectation disappointed, by
means of the Emperor Charles so highly commending one
Cardinal Adrian, sometime his schoolmaster, to the Cardinals of
Rome, in the time of their election, for his virtue and worthiness,
that thereupon was he chosen Pope, who from Spain, where he
was then resident, coming on foot to Rome, before his entry into
the City, did put off his hose and shoes, barefoot and barelegged
passing through the streets towards his palace, with such humble
ness that all the people had him in great reverence. Cardinal
Wolsey, I say, waxed 2 so wood 3 therewith, that he studied to
invent all ways of revengement of his grief against the Emperor,
which, as it was the beginning of a lamentable tragedy, so some
part of it as not impertinent to my present purpose, I reckoned
requisite here to put in remembrance.

The King s Marriage

This Cardinal therefore, not ignorant of the King s inconstant
and mutable disposition, soon inclined to withdraw his devotion
from his own most noble, virtuous and lawful wife, Queen
Katherine, aunt to the Emperor, upon every light occasion* and
upon other, to her in nobility, wisdom, virtue, favour and beauty,
* clyster, enema. f grew. * angry.

WILLIAM ROPER 17

far incomparable, to fix his affection, meaning to make this his
so light disposition an instrument to bring about his ungodly
intent, devised to allure the King (then already, contrary to his
mind, nothing less looking for, falling in love with the Lady Anne
Boleyn) to cast fancy to one of the French King s sisters, which
thing, because of the enmity and war that was at that time
between the French King and the Emperor (whom, for the cause
afore remembered, he mortally maligned) he was very desirous to
procure. And for the better achieving thereof, requested Long-
land, Bishop of Lincoln, and ghostly father l to the King, to put
a scruple into His Grace s head, that it was not lawful for him to
marry his brother s wife, which the King, not sorry to hear of,
opened it first to Sir Thomas More, whose counsel he required
therein, shewing him certain places of Scripture that somewhat
seemed to serve his appetite; which, when he had perused, and
thereupon as one that had never professed the study of divinity,
himself excused to be unmeet many ways to meddle with such
matters. The King, not satisfied with this answer, so sore still
pressed upon him therefore, that in conclusion he condescended
to His Grace s motion. And further, foreasrnuch as the case was
of such importance as needed great advisement and deliberation,
he besought His Grace of sufficient respite advisedly to consider
of it. Wherewith the King, well contented, said unto him that
Tunstall and Clark, Bishops of Durham and Bath, with other
learned of his Privy Council, should also be dealers therein.

So Sir Thomas More departing, conferred those places of
Scripture with expositions of divers of the old holy doctors, and
at his coming to the court, in talking with His Grace of the
aforesaid matter, he said,

To be plain with Your Grace, neither my Lord of Durham,
nor my Lord of Bath, though I know them both to be wise,
virtuous, learned and honourable prelates, nor myself, with the
rest of your Council, being all Your Grace s own servants, for
your manifold benefits daily bestowed on us so most bounden to
you, be, in my judgment, meet counsellors for Your Grace herein.
But if Your Grace mind to understand the truth, such counsellors
may you have devised, as neither for respect of their own worldly
commodity, nor for fear of your princely authority, will bo
inclined to deceive you/ To whom he named then St Jerome, St
Augustine and divers other old Holy Doctors, both Greeks and

1 spiritual director.
c

18 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Latins, and moreover shewed him what authorities he had
gathered out of them, which although the King (as disagreeable
with his desire) did not very well like of, yet were they by Sir
Thomas More, who in all his communication with the King in
that matter had always most discreetly behaved himself, so
wisely tempered, that he both presently took them in good part,
and ofttimes had thereof conference with him again.

After this were there certain questions among his Council
propounded, whether the King needed in this case to have any
scruple at all, and if he had, what way were best to be taken to
deliver him of it. The most part of whom were of opinion that
there was good cause of scruple, and that for discharging of it,
suit were meet to be made to the See of Rome, where the King
hoped by liberality to obtain his purpose, wherein, as it after
appeared, he was far deceived.

Then was there for the trial and examination of this matrimony
procured from Rome a commission in which Cardinal Campeggio
and Cardinal Wolsey were joined commissioners, who for the
determination thereof, sat at the Blackfriars in London where a
libel l was put in for the annulling of the said matrimony, alleging
the marriage between the King and Queen to be unlawful And
for proof of the marriage to be lawful, was there brought in a
dispensation, in which, after divers disputations thereon holden,
there appeared an imperfection, which, by an instrument or brief,
upon search found in the Treasury of Spain, and sent to the
commissioners in England, was supplied. And so should judg
ment have been given by the Pope accordingly, had not the King,
upon intelligence thereof, before the same judgment, appealed to
the next General Council After whose application the Cardinal
upon that matter sat no longer.

It fortuned before the matter of the said matrimony brought
in question, when I, in talk with Sir Thomas More, of a certain
joy commended unto him the happy estate of this Realm that had
so Catholic a Prince that no heretic durst shew his face* so
virtuous and learned a clergy, so grave and sound a nobility, and
so loving, obedient subjects, all in one faith agreeing together.

*Troth it is indeed, son Roper,* quoth he> and in commending

all degrees and estates of the same went far beyond me, * And yet,

son Roper, I pray God , said he, *that some of us, as high as we

seem to sit upon the mountains, treading heretics under our feet

1 plaintiff s statement.

WILLIAM ROPER 19

like ants, live not the day that we gladly would wish to be at
league and composition with them, to let them have their churches
quietly to themselves, so that they would be content to let us
have ours quietly to ourselves. After that I had told him many
considerations why he had no cause so to say, * Well, said he, I
pray God, son Roper, some of us live not till that day,* shewing
me no reason why he should put any doubt therein. To whom I
said, *By my troth, Sir, it is very desperately spoken.* That vile
term, I cry God mercy, did I give him. Who, by these words,
perceiving me in a fume, said merrily unto me, *Well, well, son
Roper, it shall not be so, it shall not be so. Whom in sixteen years
and more being in house conversant with him, I could never
perceive as much as once in a fume.

But now to return again where I left. After the supplying of the
imperfections of the dispensation sent (as before rehearsed) to the
commissioners into England, the King, taking the matter for
ended, and then meaning no farther to proceed in that matter,
assigned the Bishop of Durham and Sir Thomas More to go
ambassadors to Cambrai, a place neither Imperial nor French, to
treat a peace between the Emperor, the French King and him. In
the concluding whereof Sir Thomas More so worthily handled
himself, procuring in our league far more benefits unto this
Realm than at that time by the King or his Council was thought
possible to be compassed, that for his good service in that voyage,
the King, when he after made him Lord Chancellor, caused the
Duke of Norfolk openly to declare unto the people (as you shall
hear hereafter more at large) how much all England was bound
unto him.

Now upon the coming home of the Bishop of Durham and Sir
Thomas More from Cambrai, the King was as earnest in persuad
ing Sir Thomas More to agree unto the matter of his marriage as
before, by many and divers ways provoking him thereunto. For
the which cause, as it was thought, he the rather soon after made
him Lord Chancellor, and further declaring unto him that,
though at his going over sea to Cambrai he was in utter despair
thereof, yet he had conceived since some good hope to compass
it. For albeit his marriage, being against the positive laws of the
Church and the written laws of God, was holpen by the dispen
sation, yet was there another thing found out of late, he said,
whereby his marriage appeared to be so directly against the law
of nature that it could in no wise by the church be dispensable,

20 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

as Doctor Stokesley (whom he then preferred to be Bishop of
London, and in that case chiefly credited) was able to instruct
him, with whom he prayed him in that point to confer. But for all
his conference with him, he saw nothing of such force as could
induce him to change his opinion therein, which notwithstanding
the Bishop shewed himself in his report of him to the King s
Highness so good and favourable that he said he found him in His
Grace s cause very toward, and desirous to find some good matter
wherewith he might truly serve His Grace to his contentment.

Lord Chancellor

This Bishop Stokesley, being by the Cardinal not long before
in the Star Chamber openly put to rebuke and awarded to the
Fleet, not brooking his contumelious usage, and thinking that
forasmuch as the Cardinal for lack of such forwardness in setting
forth the King s divorce as His Grace looked for, was out of His
Highnesses favour, he had now a good occasion offered him to
revenge his quarrel against him, further to incense the King s dis
pleasure towards him, busily travailed to invent some colourable
device for the King s furtherance in that behalf, which (as before
is mentioned) he to His Grace revealed, hoping thereby to bring
the King to the better liking of himself, and the more misliking
of the Cardinal, whom His Highness therefore soon after of his
office displaced, and to Sir Thomas More, the rather to remove
him to incline to his side, the same in his stead committed.

Who, between the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, being
brought through Westminster Hail to his place in the Chancery,
the Duke of Norfolk, in audience of all the people there assem
bled, shewed that he was from the King himself straightly *
charged, by special commission, there openly, in the presence of
them all, to make declaration how much all England was behold
ing to Sir Thomas More for his good service, and how worthy he
was to have the highest room in the Realm, and how dearly His
Grace loved and trusted him, for which, said the Duke, he had
great cause to rejoice. Whereunto Sir Thomas More, among many
other his humble and wise sayings not now in my memory,
answered that although he had good cause to take comfort of
His Highness s singular favour towards him, that he had, far
above his deserts, so highly commended him, to whom therefore
he acknowledged himself most deeply bounden, yet, nevertheless,

1 strictly.

WILLIAM ROPER 21

he must of his own part needs confess, that in all things by His
Grace alleged he had done no more than was his duty, and
further disabled himself as unmeet for that room, wherein,
considering how wise and honourable a prelate had lately before
taken so great a fall, he had, he said, thereof no cause to rejoice.
And as they had before, on the King s behalf, charged him
uprightly to minister indifferent justice to the people, without
corruption or affection, so did he likewise charge them again,
that if they saw him, at any time, in any thing, digress from any
part of his duty in that honourable office, even as they would
discharge their own duty and fidelity to God and the King, so
should they not fail to disclose it to His Grace, who otherwise
might have just occasion to lay his fault wholly to their charge.

While he was Lord Chancellor, being at leisure (as seldom he
was), one of his sons-in-law on a time said merrily unto him,
4 When Cardinal Wolsey was Lord Chancellor, not only divers of
his privy chamber, but such also as were his doorkeepers got
great gain. And since he had married one of his daughters, and
gave still attendance upon him, he thought he might of reason
look for some, where he indeed, because he was so ready himself
to hear every man, poor and rich, and kept no doors shut from
them, could find none, which was to him a great discourage. And
whereas else, some for friendship, some for kindred, and some
for profit, would gladly have had his furtherance in bringing them
to his presence, if he should now take anything of them, he knew,
he said, he should do them great wrong, for that they might do
as much for themselves as he could do for them, which condition,
although he thought in Sir Thomas More very commendable, yet
to him, being his son, he found it nothing profitable.

When he had told his tale: You say well, son, quoth he. I do
not mislike that you are of conscience so scrupulous, but many
other ways be there, son, that I may both do yourself good and
pleasure your friend also. For sometime may I by my word stand
your friend in stead, 1 and sometime may I by my letter help him,
or if he have a cause depending before me, at your request I may
hear him before another. Or if his cause be not all the best, yet
may I move the parties to fall to some reasonable end by arbitra
ment. Howbeit, this one thing, son, I assure thee on my faith, that
if the parties will at my hands call for justice, then, all were it my
father stood on the one side and the devil on the other, his cause

1 of benefit.

22 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

being good, the devil should have right. So offered he his son,
as he thought, he said, as much favour as with reason he could
require.

And that he would for no respect digress from justice, well
appeared by a plain example of another of his sons-in-law called
Master Heron. For when he, having a matter before him in
Chancery, and presuming too much of his favour, would by him
in no wise be persuaded to agree to any indifferent order, then
made he in conclusion a flat decree against him.

This Lord Chancellor used commonly every afternoon to sit in
his open hall, to the intent that, if any persons had suit unto him,
they might the more boldly come to his presence, and there open
their complaints before him, whose manner was also to read
every bill himself, ere he would award any subpoena, which
bearing matter sufficient worthy a subpoena, would he set his
hand unto or else cancel it.

Whensoever he passed through Westminster Hall to his place
in the Chancery by the court of the King s Bench, if his father,
one of the Judges thereof, had been sat ere he came, he would go
into the same court, and there reverently kneeling down in the
sight of them all, duly ask his father s blessing. And if it fortuned
that his father and he, at readings in Lincoln s Inn, met together,
as they sometimes did, notwithstanding his high office, he would
offer in argument the pre-eminence to his father, though he, for
his office sake, would refbse to take it. And for the better
declaration of his natural affection towards his father, he not only,
while he lay on his death-bed, according to his duty, oft times
with comfortable words most kindly came to visit him, but also
at his departure out of the world with tears taking him about the
neck, most lovingly embraced him, commending him into the
merciful hands of Almighty God, and so departed from him.

And so few injunctions a as he granted while he was Lord
Chancellor, yet were they by some of the judges of the law mis-
liked, which I understanding, declared the same to Sir Thomas
More, who answered me that they should have little cause to find
fault with him therefore. And thereupon caused he one Master
Crooke, chief of the six clerks, to make a docket containing the
whole number and causes of all such injunctions as either in his
time had already passed, or at that present depended in any of the
King s Courts at Westminster before him. Which done, he invited
1 Writ preventing a wrongful act.

WILLIAM ROPER 23

all the Judges to dine with him in the Council Chamber at West
minster, where, after dinner, when he had broken with them what
complaints he had heard of his injunctions and moreover shewed
them both the number of causes of every one of them, in order,
so plainly that, upon full debating of those matters, they were all
enforced to confess that they, in like case, could have done no
otherwise themselves. Then offered he this unto them, that if the
Justices of every court (unto whom the reformation of the rigour
of the law, by reason of their office, most especially appertained)
would, upon reasonable considerations, by their own discretions
(as they were, he thought, in conscience bound), mitigate and
reform the rigour of the law themselves, there should from thence
forth by him no more injunctions be granted. Whereunto when
they refused to condescend, then said he unto them, Forasmuch
as yourselves, my lords, drive me to that necessity for awarding
out injunctions to relieve the people s injury, you cannot here
after any more justly blame me. After that he said secretly unto
me, *I perceive, son, why they like not so to do, for they see that
they may by the verdict of the jury cast off all quarrels from
themselves upon them, which they account their chief defence,
and therefore am I compelled to abide the adventure of all such
reports.

Against Heresies

And as little leisure as he had to be occupied in the study of
holy scripture and controversies upon religion and such other
virtuous exercises, being in manner continually busied about the
affairs of the King and the Realm, yet such watch and pain in
setting forth of divers profitable works, in defence of the true
Christian religion, against heresies secretly sown abroad in the
Realm, assuredly sustained he, that the Bishops, to whose
pastoral cure the reformation thereof principally appertained,
thinking themselves by his travail, wherein by their own con
fession they were not able with him to make comparison, of their
duties in that behalf discharged. And considering that for all his
Prince s favour he was no rich man, nor in yearly revenues
advanced as his worthiness deserved, therefore at a convocation
among themselves and other of the clergy, they agreed together
and concluded upon a sum of four or five thousand pounds, at
the least, to my remembrance, for his pains to recompense him.
To the payment whereof every Bishop, Abbot and the rest of the

24 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

clergy were, after the rate of their abilities, liberal contributories,
hoping this portion should be to his contentation. 1

Whereupon Tunstall, Bishop of Durham, Clark, Bishop of
Bath, and, as far as I can call to mind, Veysey, Bishop of Exeter,
repaired unto him, declaring how thankfully his travails, to their
discharge, in God s cause bestowed, they reckoned themselves
bound to consider him. And that albeit they could not, according
to his deserts, so worthily as they gladly would, requite him there
fore, but must reserve that only to the goodness of God, yet for a
small part of recompense, in respect of his estate so unequal to his
worthiness, in the name of their whole convocation, they presented
unto him that sum, which they desired him to take in good part.

Who, forsaking it, said, that like as it was no small comfort
unto him that so wise and learned men so well accepted his
simple doings, for which he never intended to receive reward but
at the hands of God only, to whom alone was the thanks thereof
chiefly to be ascribed, so gave he most humble thanks to their
honours all for their so bountiful and friendly consideration.

When they, for all their importunate pressing upon him, that
few would have went 2 he could have refused it, could by no
means make him to take it, then besought they him to be content
yet that they might bestow it upon his wife and children. *Not
so, my lords, quoth he, *I had liefer 3 see it all cast into the
Thames than I, or any of mine, should have thereof the worth of
one penny. For though your offer, my lords, be indeed very
friendly and honourable, yet set I so much by my pleasure and
so little by my profit, that I would not, in good faith, for so much,
and much more too, have lost the rest of so many nights sleep
as was spent upon the same. And yet wish would I t for all that,
upon condition that all heresies were suppressed, that all my
books were burned and my labour utterly lost/

Thus departing, were they fain to restore unto every man his
own again*

Mortifications

This Lord Chancellor, albeit he was to God and the world well
known of notable virtue (though not so of every man considered)
yet, for the avoiding of singularity, would he appear none other
wise than other men in his apparel and other behaviour. And
albeit outwardly he appeared honourable like one of his calling,
1 satisfaction. * thought, * rather.

WILLIAM ROPER 25

yet inwardly he no such vanities esteeming, secretly next his body
wore a shirt of hair, which my sister More, 1 a young gentle
woman, in the summer, as he sat at supper, singly in his doublet
and hose, wearing thereupon a plain shirt, without ruff or collar,
chancing to spy it, began to laugh at it. My wife, not ignorant of
his manner, perceiving the same, privily told him of it, and he,
being sorry that she saw it, presently amended it.

He used also sometimes to punish his body with whips, the
cords knotted, which was known only to my wife, his eldest
daughter, whom for her secrecy above all other he specially trusted,
causing her, as need required, to wash the same shirt of hair.

Now shortly upon his entry into the high office of the Chan
cellorship, the King yet eftsoons again moved him to weigh and
consider his great matter, who, falling down upon his knees,
humbly besought His Highness to stand his gracious Sovereign,
as he ever since his entry into His Grace s service had found him,
saying there was nothing in the world had been so grievous unto
his heart as to remember that he was not able, as he willingly
would, with the loss of one of his limbs, for that matter anything
to find whereby he could, with his conscience, safely serve His
Grace s contentation, 2 as he that always bare in mind the most
godly words that His Highness spake unto him at his first coming
into his noble service, the most virtuous lesson that ever Prince
taught his servant, willing him first to look unto God, and after
God to him, as, in good faith, he said, he did, or else might His
Grace well account him his most unworthy servant. To this the
King answered, that if he could not therein with his conscience
serve him, he was content to accept his service otherwise, and
using the advice of other of his learned Council, whose con
sciences could well enough agree therewith, would nevertheless
continue his gracious favour towards him, and never with that
matter molest his conscience after.

Resignation

But Sir Thomas More, in process of time, seeing the King
fully determined to proceed forth in the marriage of Queen
Anne, and when he, with the bishops and nobles of the Higher
House of the Parliament, were, for the furtherance of that
marriage, commanded by the King to go down to the Common

1 Anne Cresacrc, wife of John More, the son of Sir Thomas.
a satisfaction.

26 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

House to shew unto them both what the Universities, as well as of
other parts beyond the seas as of Oxford and Cambridge, had
done in that behalf, and their seals also testifying the same all
which matters, at the King s request, not shewing of what mind
himself was therein, he opened to the Lower House of the Parlia
ment nevertheless, doubting lest further attempts after should
follow, which, contrary to his conscience, by reason of his office,
he was likely to be put unto, he made suit unto the Duke of
Norfolk, his singular dear friend, to be a means to the King
that he might, with His Grace s favour, be discharged of that
chargeable 1 room of the Chancellorship, wherein, for certain
infirmities of his body, he pretended himself unable any longer
to serve.

This Duke, coming on a time to Chelsea to dine with him,
fortuned to find him at the Church, singing in the Choir, with a
surplice on his back; to whom, after service, as they went home
ward together, arm in arm, the Duke said, *God body! God
body! My Lord Chancellor, a parish Clerk, a parish Clerk! You
dishonour the King and his office. *Nay/ quoth Sir Thomas
More, smiling upon the Duke, * Your Grace may not think that
the King, your master and mine, will with me, for serving of God,
his master, be offended, or thereby count his office dishonoured.*

When the Duke, being thereunto often solicited, by importu
nate suit had at length of the King obtained for Sir Thomas More
a clear discharge of his office, then, at a time convenient, by his
Highness s appointment, repaired he to His Grace, to yield up
unto him the Great Seal. Which, as His Grace, with thanks and
praise for his worthy service in that office, courteously at his
hands received, so pleased it His Highness further to say unto
him, that for the service that he before had done him, in any suit
which he should after have unto him, that either should concern
his honour (for that word it liked His Highness to use unto him)
or that should appertain unto his profit, he should find His
Highness good and gracious Lord unto him,

After he had thus given over the Chancellorship, and placed all
his gentlemen and yeomen with bishops and noblemen, and his
eight watermen with the Lord Audley, that in the same office
succeeded him, to whom also he gave his great barge, then,
calling us all that were his children unto him, and asking our
advice how we might now, in this decay of his ability (by the
1 burdensome.

WILLIAM ROPER 27

surrender of his office so impaired that he could not, as he was
wont, and gladly would, bear out the whole charges of them all
himself) from thenceforth be able to live and continue together,
as he wished we should, when he saw us silent, and in that
case not ready to shew our opinions to him, Then will I , said
he, *shew my poor mind unto you. I have been brought up ,
quoth he, at Oxford, at an Inn of Chancery, at Lincoln s Inn and
also in the King s Court, and so forth from the lowest degree to
the highest, and yet have I in yearly revenues at this present left
me little above an hundred pounds by the year, so that now must
we hereafter, if we like to live together, be contented to become
contributories together. But, by my counsel, it shall not be best
for us to fall to the lowest fare first. We will not therefore descend
to Oxford fare, nor to the fare of New Inn, but we will begin with
Lincoln s Inn diet, where many right worshipful and of good years
do live full well; which, if we find not ourselves the first year able
to maintain, then will we the next year go one step down to New
Inn fare, wherewith many an honest man is well contented. If
that exceed our ability too, then will we the next year after
descend to Oxford fare, where many grave, learned and ancient
fathers be continually conversant, which if our power stretch not
to maintain neither, then may we yet with bags and wallets, go a
begging together, and hoping that for pity some good folk will
give us their charity, at every man s door to sing Salve Regina,
and so still keep company and be merry together.

And whereas you have heard before, he was by the King from
a very worshipful living taken into His Grace s service, with
whom, in all the great and weighty causes that concerned His
Highness or the Realm, he consumed and spent with painful
cares, travels and troubles, as well beyond the seas as within the
Realm, in effect the whole substance of his life, yet with all the
gain he got thereby, being never wasteful spender thereof, was he
not able, after the resignation of his office of Lord Chancellor,
for the maintenance of himself and such as necessarily belonged
unto him, sufficiently to find meat, drink, fuel, apparel and such
other necessary charges. All the land that ever he purchased,
which also he purchased before he was Lord Chancellor, was not,
I am well assured, above the value of twenty marks by the year.
And after his debts paid, he had not, I know, his chain excepted,
in gold and silver left him the worth of one hundred pounds.

And whereas upon the holy-days during his High Chancellorship,

28 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

one of his gentlemen, when service at the Church was done,
ordinarily used to come to my lady his wife s pew, and say unto
her, * Madame, my Lord is gone/ the next holy-day after the
surrender of his office and departure of his gentleman, he came
unto his lady his wife s pew himself, and making a low curtsy,
said unto her, * Madame, my lord is gone**

In the time somewhat before his trouble, he would talk with
his wife and children of the joys of heaven and the pains of hell,
of the lives of holy martyrs, of their grievous martyrdoms, of
their marvellous patience, and of their passions and deaths that
they suffered rather than they would offend God. And what an
happy and blessed thing it was, for the love of God, to suffer
loss of goods, imprisonment, loss of lands and life also. He would
further say unto them that, upon his faith, if he might perceive
his wife and children would encourage him to die in a good cause,
it should so comfort him that, for very joy thereof, it would make
him merely run to death. He shewed unto them afore what trouble
might after fall unto him, wherewith and the like virtuous talk he
had so long before his trouble encouraged them, that when he
after fell into trouble indeed, his trouble to them was a great deal
the less. Quia spicula previsa minus Ictedunt. 1

Now upon this resignment of his office, came Master Thomas
Cromwell, then in the King s high favour, to Chelsea to him with
a message from the King. Wherein when they had thoroughly
communed together, * Master Cromwell,* quoth he, 4 you are now
entered into the service of a most noble, wise and liberal Prince.
If you will follow my poor advice, you shall, in your counsel
giving unto His Grace, ever tell him what he ought to do, but
never what he is able to do. So shall you shew yourself a true
faithful servant and a right worthy Councillor* For if a lion knew
his own strength, hard were it for any man to rule him/

Shortly thereupon was there a Commission directed to Crun-
mer, then Archbishop of Canterbury, to determine the matter of
the matrimony between the King and Queen Katherine, at St
Albans, where, according to the King s mind, it was thoroughly
determined, who, pretending he had no justice at the Pope s
hands, from thenceforth sequestered himself from the See of
Rome, and so married the Lady Anne Boleyn; which Sir Thomas
More understanding said unto me, *God give grace, son, that
these matters within a while be not confirmed with oaths/ I f at
1 Because troubles foreseen hurt less,

WILLIAM ROPER 29

that time seeing no likelihood thereof, yet fearing lest his fore-
speaking it would the sooner come to pass, waxed therefore for
his so saying much offended with him.

Coronation of Queen Anne

It fortuned not long before the coming of Queen Anne through
the streets of London from the Tower to Westminster to her
Coronation, that he received a letter from the Bishops of Durham,
Bath and Winchester, requesting him both to keep them company
from the Tower to the Coronation, and also to take twenty
pounds that by the bearer thereof they had sent him to buy him
a gown with, which he thankfully receiving, and at home still
tarrying, at their next meeting said merrily unto them:

* My lords, in the letters which you lately sent me, you required
two things of me, the one whereof, since I was so well content to
grant you, the other therefore I thought I might be the bolder to
deny you. And like as the one, because I took you for no beggars,
and myself I knew to be no rich man, I thought I might the rather
fulfil, so the other did put me in remembrance of an Emperor
that had ordained a law that whosoever committed a certain
offence (which I now remember not) except it were a virgin,
should suffer the pains of death, such a reverence had he for
virginity. Now so it happened that the first committer of that
offence was indeed a virgin, whereof the Emperor hearing was in
no small perplexity, as he that by some example fain would have
had that law to have been put in execution. Whereupon when
his Council had sat long, solemnly debating this case, suddenly
arose there up one of his Council, a good plain man, among them,
and said, "Why make you so much ado, my lords, about so small
a matter? Let her first be deflowered, and then after may she be
devoured." And so though your lordships have in the matter of
the matrimony hitherto kept yourselves pure virgins, yet take
good heed, my lords, that you keep your virginity still. For some
there be that by procuring your lordships first at the Coronation
to be present, and next to preach for the setting forth of it, and
finally to write books to all the world in defence thereof, are
desirous to deflower you, and when they have deflowered you
then will they not fail soon after to devour you. Now my lords,
quoth he, *it lieth not in my power but that they may devour me,
but God being my good Lord, I will provide that they shall never
deflower me/

30 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

The Nun of Kent

In continuance, when the King saw that he could by no manner
of benefits win him on his side, then, lo, went he about by terrors
and threats to drive him thereunto. The beginning of which
trouble grew by occasion of a certain Nun dwelling in Canterbury
for her virtue and holiness among people not a little esteemed;
unto whom, for that cause, many religious persons, Doctors of
Divinity, and divers others of good worship of the laity used to
resort, who, affirming that she had revelations from God to give
the King warning of his wicked life, and of the abuse of the sword
and authority committed unto him by God, and understanding
my Lord of Rochester, Bishop Fisher, to be a man of notable
virtuous living and learning, repaired to Rochester, and there dis
closed to him all her revelations, desiring his advice and counsel
therein, which the Bishop perceiving might well stand with the
laws of God and his Holy Church, advised her (as she before had
warning and intended) to go to the King herself, and to let him
understand the whole circumstance thereof. Whereupon she went
to the King, and told him all her revelations, and so returned
home again. And in short space after, she, making a voyage to the
Nuns of Syon, by means of one Master Reynolds, a father of the
same house, there fortuned concerning such secrets as had been
revealed unto her (some part whereof seemed to touch the matter
of the King s Supremacy and marriage, which shortly thereupon
followed) to enter into talk with Sir Thomas More, who, not
withstanding he might well, at that time, without danger of any
law (though after, as himself had prognosticated before, those
matters were established and confirmed by oaths) freely and
safely have talked with her therein, nevertheless, in all the com
munication between them (as in process appeared) had always so
discreetly demeaned himself that he deserved not to be blamed,
but contrariwise to be commended and praised.

Accused of Corruption

And had he not been one that in all his great offices and doings
for the King and the Realm, so many years together, had from all
corruption of wrong doing or bribes taking kept himself so clear
that no man was able therewith once to blemish him or make just
quarrel against him, it would, without doubt, in this troublous
time of the King s indignation towards him, have been deeply

WILLIAM ROPER 31

laid to his charge, and of the King s Highness most favourably
accepted, as in the case of one Parnell it most manifestly appeared ;
against whom, because Sir Thomas More, while he was Lord
Chancellor, at the suit of one Vaughan, his adversary, had made
a decree, this Parnell to His Highness most grievously complained
that Sir Thomas More, for making the same decree, had of the
same Vaughan (unable for the gout to travel abroad himself) by
the hands of his wife taken a fair great gilt cup for a bribe. Who
thereupon, by the King s appointment, being called before the
whole Council, where that matter was heinously laid to his
charge, forthwith confessed that forasmuch as that cup was, long
after the aforesaid decree, brought him for a New Year s gift, he,
upon her importunate pressing upon him therefore, of courtesy,
refused not to receive it.

Then the Lord of Wiltshire (for hatred of his religion preferrer *
of this suit) with much rejoicing said unto the lords, *Lo, did I
not tell you, my lords, that you should find this matter true?
Whereupon Sir Thomas More desired their lordships that as they
had courteously heard him tell the one part of his tale, so they
would vouchsafe of their honours indifferently to hear the other.
After which obtained, he further declared unto them that, albeit
he had indeed, with much work, received that cup, yet immediately
thereupon he caused his butler to fill it with wine, and of that cup
drank to her, and that when he had so done, and she pledged him,
then as freely as her husband had given it to him, even so freely
gave her the same unto her again, to give unto her husband as his
New Year s gift, which, at his instant request, though much
against her will, at length yet she was fain to receive, as herself,
and certain other there, presently before them deposed. Thus was
the great mountain turned scant to a little molehill.

So I remember that at another time, upon a New Year s day,
there came to him one Mistress Crocker, a rich widow, for whom,
with no small pain, he had made a decree in the Chancery against
the Lord Arundel, to present him with a pair of gloves, and forty
pounds in angels * in them for a New Year s gift. Of whom he
thankfully receiving the gloves, but refusing the money, said unto
her, Mistress, since it were against good manners to forsake a
gentlewoman s New Year s gift, I am content to take your gloves,
but as for your money I utterly refuse. So, much against her
mind, enforced he her to take her gold again.

1 promoter. a gold coin.

32 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

And one Master Gresham likewise, having at the same time a
cause depending in the Chancery before him, sent him for a New
Year s gift a fair gilt cup, the fashion whereof he very well liking,
caused one of his own (though not in his fantasy of so good a
fashion, yet better in value) to be brought him out of his chamber,
which he willed the messenger, in recompense, to deliver to his
master, and under other conditions would he in no wise receive it,

Many things more of like effect, for the declaration of his
imtocency and clearness from all corruption or evil affection,
could I rehearse besides, which for tediousness omitting, I refer
to the readers by these few before remembered examples, with
their own judgments wisely to weigh and consider the same,

The Bill of Attainder

At the Parliament following, was there put into the Lords 1
House a Bill to attaint the Nun and divers other religious persons
of high treason, and the Bishop of Rochester, Sir Thomas More
and certain others, of misprision of treason, the King presup
posing of likelihood that this Bill would be to Sir Thomas More
so troublous and terrible that it would force him to relent and
condescend to his request wherein His Grace was much
deceived. To which Bill Sir Thomas More was a suitor personally
to be received in his own defence to make answer. But the King,
not liking that, assigned the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord
Chancellor, the Duke of Norfolk and Master Cromwell, at a day
and place appointed, to call Sir Thomas More before them. At
which time, I, thinking that I had a good opportunity, earnestly
advised him to labour unto those Lords for the help of his
discharge out of that Parliament Bill Who answered me he
would.

And at his coming before them, according to their appoint
ment, they entertained him very friendly, willing him to sit down
with them, which in no wise he would. Then began the Lord
Chancellor to declare unto him how many ways the King had
shewed his love and favour towards him, how fain he would have
had him continue in his office, how glad he would have been to
have heaped more benefits upon him, and finally how he could
ask no worldly honour nor profit at His Highness s hands that
were likely to be denied him, hoping, by the declaration of the
King s kindness and affection towards him, to provoke him to
recompense His Grace with the like again, and unto those things

WILLIAM ROPER 33

that the Parliament, the Bishops and the Universities had already
passed, to add his consent.

To this Sir Thomas More mildly made answer, saying, No
man living is there, my lofds, that would with better will do the
thing that should be acceptable to the King s Highness than I,
which must needs confess his manifold goodness and bountiful
benefits most benignly bestowed on me. Howbeit, I verily hoped
that I should never have heard of this matter more, considering
that I have, from time to time, always from the beginning, so
plainly and truly declared my mind unto His Grace, which His
Highness to me ever seemed, like a most gracious Prince, very
well to accept, never minding, as he said, to molest me more
therewith; since which time any further thing that was able to
move me to any change could I never find, and if I could, there
is none in all the world that would have been gladder of it than I.

Many things more were there of like sort uttered on both sides.
But in the end, when they saw they could by no manner of
persuasions remove him from his former determination, then
began they more terribly to touch him, telling him that the King s
Highness had given them in commandment, if they could by no
gentleness win him, in his name with his great ingratitude to
charge him, that never was there servant to his sovereign so
villainous, nor subject to his Prince so traitorous as he, for he,
by his subtle sinister slights most unnaturally procuring and
provoking him to set forth a book of The Assertion of the Seven
Sacraments and maintenance of the Pope s authority, had caused
him, to his dishonour throughout all Christendom, to put a
sword into the Pope s hands to fight against himself.

When they had thus laid forth all the terrors they could
imagine against him, *My lords, quoth he, these terrors be
arguments for children, and not for me. But to answer that
wherewith you do chiefly burden me, I believe the King s High
ness of his honour will never lay that to my charge. For none is
there that can in that point say in my excuse more than His High
ness himself, who right well knoweth that I never was procurer
nor counsellor of His Majesty thereunto. But after it was finished,
by His Grace s appointment and consent of the makers of the
same, only a sorter out and placer of the principal matters therein
contained. Wherein when I found the Pope s authority highly
advanced and with strong arguments mightily defended, I said
unto His Grace, "I must put Your Highness in remembrance of

34 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

one thing, and that is this. The Pope, as Your Grace knoweth, is
a Prince as you are, and in league with all other Christian Princes.
It may hereafter so fall out that Your Grace and he may vary
upon some points of the league, whereupon may grow breach of
amity and war between you both. I think it best therefore that
that place be amended, and his authority more slenderly touched."

4 "Nay," quoth His Grace, "that shall it not. We are so much
bounden unto the See of Rome that we cannot do too much
honour unto it."

4 Then did I further put him in remembrance of the Statute of
Praemunire, whereby a good part of the Pope s pastoral cure here
was pared away.

*To that answered His Highness, "Whatsoever impediment be
to the contrary, we will set forth that authority to the uttermost.
For we received from that See our Crown Imperial"; which, till
His Grace with his own mouth told it me, I never heard of before.
So that I trust, when His Grace shall be once truly informed of
this, and call to his gracious remembrance my doing in that
behalf, His Highness will never speak of it more, but clear me
thoroughly therein himself.

And thus displeasantly departed they.

Then took Sir Thomas More his boat towards his house at
Chelsea, wherein by the way he was very merry, and for that I
was nothing sorry, hoping that he had got himself discharged out
of the Parliament Bill. When he was landed and come home, then
walked we twain alone in his garden together, where I, desirous
to know how he had sped, said, *I trust, sir, that all is well
because you be so merry.

4 It is so indeed, son Roper, I thank God,* quoth he.

4 Are you then put out of the Parliament Bill? said I.

4 By my troth, son Roper, quoth he, 4 I never remembered it.*

Never remembered it, Sir, said I, *a case that toucheth your
self so near, and us all for your sake! I am sorry to hear it, for I
verily trusted, when I saw you so merry, that all had been well.

Then said he, Wilt thou know, son Roper, why I was so meny ? *

*That would I gladly, Sir, quoth I.

"In good faith, I rejoiced, son,* quoth he, "that I had given the
devil a foul fall, and that with those lords I had gone so far, as
without great shame I could never go back again.

At which words waxed I very sad, for though himself liked it
well, yet liked it me but a little.

WILLIAM ROPER 35

Now upon the report made by the Lord Chancellor and the
other lords to the King of all their whole discourse had with Sir
Thomas More, the King was so highly offended with him, that
he plainly told them he was fully determined that the aforesaid
Parliament Bill should undoubtedly proceed forth against him.
To whom the Lord Chancellor and the rest of the lords said that
they perceived the Lords of the Upper House so precisely bent to
hear him, in his own defence, make answer himself, that if he
were not put out of the Bill, it would without fail be utterly an
overthrow of all. But, for all this, needs would the King have his
own will therein, or else he said that at the passing thereof, he
would be personally present himself.

Then the Lord Audley and the rest, seeing him so vehemently
set thereupon, on their knees most humbly besought His Grace to
forbear the same, considering that if he should, in his own
presence receive an overthrow, it would not only encourage his
subjects ever after to condemn him, but also throughout all
Christendom redound to his dishonour ever, adding thereunto
that they mistrusted not in time against him to find some meeter
matter to serve his turn better. For in this case of the Nun, he was
accounted, they said, so innocent and clear, that for his dealing
therein, men reckoned him far worthier of praise then reproof.
Whereupon at length, through their earnest persuasion, he was
content to condescend to their petition.

And on the morrow, Master Cromwell, meeting me in the
Parliament House, willed me to tell my father that he was put out
of the Parliament Bill. But because I had appointed to dine that
day in London, I sent the message by my servant to my wife to
Chelsea. Whereof when she informed her father, In faith, Meg,
quoth he, Quod differtur, non aufertur? l

After this, as the Duke of Norfolk and Sir Thomas More
chanced to fall in familiar talk together, the Duke said unto him,
*By the Mass, Master More, it is perilous striving with Princes.
And therefore I would wish you somewhat to incline to the
King s pleasure, for, by God s body, Master More, Indignatio
prlncipis mors est? 2

*Is that all, my Lord?* quoth he. Then in good faith is there
no more difference between your Grace and me, but that I shall
die today and you tomorrow.

1 What is put off, is not laid aside.
1 The wrath of the prince is death.

36 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Act of Supremacy

So fell it out, within a month or thereabouts after the making
of the Statute of the Supremacy and Matrimony, that all the
priests of London and Westminster, and no temporal man l but
he, were sent to appear at Lambeth before the Bishop of Canter
bury, the Lord Chancellor and Secretary Cromwell, commis
sioners appointed there to tender the oath unto them.

Then Sir Thomas More, as his accustomed manner was always,
ere he entered into any matter of importance, as when he was first
chosen of the King s Privy Council, when he was sent ambassador,
appointed Speaker of the Parliament, made Lord Chancellor, or
when he took any like weighty matter upon him, to go to church
and be confessed, to hear Mass and be howsled, 2 so did he like
wise in the morning early the selfsame day that he was summoned
to appear before the lords at Lambeth. And whereas he evermore
used before at his departure from his wife and children, whom he
tenderly loved, to have them bring him to his boat, and there to
kiss them all, and bid them farewell, then would he suffer none
of them forth of the gate to follow him, but pulled the wicket after
him, and shut them all from him, and with an heavy heart, as by
his countenance it appeared, with me and our four servants there
took he his boat towards Lambeth. Wherein sitting still sadly a
while, at last he suddenly rounded me in the ear, and said, *Son
Roper, I thank Our Lord, the field is won. 7 What he meant
thereby I then wist not, yet loath to seem ignorant, I answered
4 Sir, I am thereof glad* But as I conjectured afterwards, it was
for that the love he had to God wrought in him so effectually that
it conquered all his carnal affections utterly.

Now at his coming to Lambeth, how wisely he behaved himself
before the commissioners, at the ministration of the oath unto
him, may be found in certain letters sent to my wife remaining
in a great book of his works* Where, by the space of four days
he was betaken to the custody of the Abbot of Westminster,
during which time the Kmg consulted with his Council what order
were meet to be taken with him. And albeit in the beginning they
were resolved that with an oath not to be acknowledged whether
he had to the Supremacy been sworn, or what he thought thereof,
he should be discharged, yet did Queen Anne, by her importunate
clamour, so sore exasperate the King against him, that contrary to

1 layman. * receive the Sacrament.

WILLIAM ROPER 37

his former resolution, he caused the said oath of the Supremacy to
be administered unto him. Who, albeit he made a discreet qualified
answer, nevertheless was forthwith committed to ,the Tower.

The Tower

Whom, as he was going thitherward, wearing, as he commonly
did, a chain of gold about his neck, Sir Richard Cromwell, that
had the charge of his conveyance thither, advised him to send
home his chain to his wife, or to some of his children. Nay, sir, ,
quoth he, *that I will not, for if I were taken in the field by my
enemies, I would they should somewhat fare the better by me.

At whose landing Master Lieutenant at the Tower Gate was
ready to receive him, where the Porter demanded of him his
upper garment. 4 Master Porter, quoth he, here it is, and took
off his cap and delivered it him saying, 4 I am sorry it is no better
for you. No, sir, quoth the Porter, *I must have your gown.

And so was he by Master Lieutenant conveyed to his lodging,
where he called unto him one John Wood, his own servant,
there appointed to attend upon him, who could neither write nor
read, and sware him before the Lieutenant that if he should hear
or see him, at any time, speak or write any manner of thing
against the King, the Council, or the state of the Realm, he
should open it to the Lieutenant, that the Lieutenant might
incontinent reveal it to the Council.

Now when he had remained in the Tower a little more than a
month, my wife, longing to see her father, by her earnest suit at
length got leave to go to him. At whose coming, after the Seven
Psalms l and Litany said (which, whensoever she came to him, ere
he fell in talk of any worldly matters, he used accustomably to
say with her) among other communication he said unto her, *I
believe, Meg, that they that put me here, ween 2 they have done
me a high displeasure. But I assure thee, on my faith, my own
good daughter, if it had not been for my wife and you that be my
children, whom I account the chief part of my charge, I would
not have failed long ere this to have closed myself in as strait a
room and straiter too. But since I am come hither without mine
own desert, I trust that God of His goodness will discharge me
of my care, and with His gracious help supply my lack among
you. I find no cause, I thank God, Meg, to reckon myself in worse
case here than in my own house. For me thinketh God maketh
1 Penitential Psalms. * think.

38 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

me a wanton, and setteth me on his lap and dandleth me. Thus
by his gracious demeanour in tribulation appeared it that all the
troubles that ever chanced unto him, by his patient sufferance
thereof, were to him no painful punishments but of his patience
profitable exercises.

And at another time when he had first questioned with my wife
awhile of the order of his wife, children and state of his house in
his absence, he asked her how Queen Anne did. In faith, father/
quoth she, * never better. * Never better! Meg, quoth he. Alas!
Meg, alas ! It pitieth me to remember into what misery, poor soul,
she shall shortly come.

After this, Master Lieutenant, coming into his chamber to visit
him, rehearsed the benefits and friendship that he had many ways
received at his hands, and how much bounden he was therefore
friendly to entertain him and make him good cheer, which, since
the case standing as it did, he could not do without the King s
indignation, he trusted, he said, he would accept his good will,
and such poor cheer as he had. Master Lieutenant, quoth he
again. I verily believe, as you may, so you are my good friend
indeed, and would, as you say, with your best cheer entertain me,
for the which I most heartily thank you, and assure yourself,
Master Lieutenant, I do not mislike my cheer, but whensoever I
do, then thrust me out of your doors.

Whereas the oath confirming the Supremacy and Matrimony
was by the first Statute in few words comprised, the Lord Chan
cellor and Master Secretary did of their own heads add more
words unto it, to make it appear unto the King s ears more
pleasant and plausible. And that oath, so amplified, caused they
to be ministered to Sir Thomas More, and to all other throughout
the Realm. Which Sir Thomas More perceiving, said unto my
wife, *I may tell thee, Meg, they that have committed me hither,
for refusing of this oath not agreeable to the statute, are not by
their own law able to justify my imprisonment. And surely,
daughter, it is great pity that any Christian Prince should by a
flexible Council ready to follow his affections, and by a weak
clergy lacking grace constantly to stand to their learning, with
flattery be so shamefully abused. But at length the Lord Chan
cellor and Master Secretary, espying their own oversight in that
behalf, were fain afterwards to find the means that another
Statute should be made for the confirmation of the oath so
amplified with their additions.

WILLIAM ROPER 39

After Sir Thomas More had given over his office and all other
worldly doings therewith, to the intent he might from thenceforth
the more quietly settle himself to the service of God, then made
he a conveyance for the disposition of all his lands, reserving to
himself an estate thereof only for the term of his own life, and
after his decease assuring some part of the same to his wife, some
to his son s wife for a jointure on consideration that she was an
inheritrix in possession of more than an hundred pounds land by
the year, and some to me and my wife in recompense of our
marriage money, with divers remainders over. All which con
veyance and assurance was perfectly finished long before that
matter whereupon he was attainted was made an offence, and yet
after by statute clearly avoided. And so were all his lands, that he
had to his wife and children by the said conveyance in such sort
assured contrary to the order of law, taken away from them, and
brought into the King s hands, saving that portion which he had
appointed to my wife and me, which, although he had in the
foresaid conveyance reserved as he did the rest for term of life to
himself, nevertheless, upon further consideration, two days after,
by another conveyance, he gave the same immediately to my wife
and me in possession. And so because the statute had undone only
the first conveyance, giving no more to the King but so much as
passed by that, the second conveyance, whereby it was given to
my wife and me, being dated two days after, was without the
compass of the statute. And so was our portion to us by that
means clearly reserved.

Martyrdom of the Carthusians

As Sir Thomas More in the Tower chanced on a time, looking
out of his window, to behold one Master Reynolds, a religious,
learned and virtuous father of Syon, and three monks of the
Charterhouse, for the matters of the Matrimony and Supremacy
going out of the Tower to execution, he, as one longing in that
journey to have accompanied them, said unto my wife, then
standing there beside him, Lo, dost thou not see, Meg, that these
blessed fathers be now as cheerfully going to their deaths as
bridegrooms to their marriage? Wherefore mayest thou see, mine
own good daughter, what a great difference there is between such
as have in effect spent all their days in a straight, hard, penitential
and painfU life religiously, and such as have in the world, like
worldly wretches, as thy poor father hath done, consumed all

4O LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

their time in pleasure and ease licentiously. For God, considering
their long continued life in most sore and grievous penance, will
no longer suffer them to remain here in this vale of misery and
iniquity, but speedily hence taketh them to the fruition of His
everlasting deity, whereas thy silly father, Meg, that like a most
wicked caitiff hath passed forth the whole course of his miserable
life most sinfully, God, thinking him not worthy so soon to come
to that eternal felicity, leaveth him here yet still in the world,
further to be plunged and turmoiled with misery.

Within a while after, Master Secretaiy, coming to him into the
Tower from the King, pretended much friendship towards him,
and for his comfort told him that the King s Highness was his
good and gracious lord, and minded not with any matter wherein
he should have cause of scruple, from henceforth to trouble his
conscience. As soon as Master Secretary was gone, to express
what comfort he conceived of his words, he wrote with a coal,
for ink then had he none, these verses following:

Eye-flattering fortune, look thou never so fair
Nor never so pleasantly begin to smile,
As though thou wouidst my ruin all repair,
During my life thou shalt not me beguile.
Trust I shall God, to enter in a while
His haven of heaven, sure and uniform;
Ever after thy calm look I for a storm.

Lady Alice More

When Sir Thomas More had continued a good while in the
Tower, my Lady, his wife, obtained licence to see him, who, at
her first coming, like a simple ignorant woman, and somewhat
worldly too, with this manner of salutation bluntly saluted him:

4 What the good year, Master More, quoth she, *I marvel that
you, that have been always hitherto taken for so wise a man,
will now so play the fool to lie here in this close, filthy prison,
and be content thus to be shut up amongst mice and rats, when
you might be abroad at your liberty, and with the favour and
good will both of the King and his Council, if you would but do
as all the Bishops and best learned of this Realm have done. And
seeing you have at Chelsea a right fair house, your library, your
books, your gallery, your garden, your orchard and all other
necessaries so handsome about you, where you might in the
company of me your wife, your children and household be merry,

WILLIAM ROPER 41

I muse what a God s name you mean here still thus fondly to
tarry.*

After he had a while quietly heard her, with a cheerful counten
ance he said unto her, I pray thee, good Mistress Alice, tell me
one thing.

What is that? quoth she.

Is not this house , quoth he, as nigh heaven as my own?

To whom she, after her accustomed homely fashion, not liking
such talk, answered, Tilly-vally, tilly-vally!*

How say you, Mistress Alice, quoth he, Ms it not so?

Bone deus, bone deus, man, will this gear never be left?
quoth she.

Well then, Mistress Alice, if it be so, quoth he, it is very welL
For I see no great cause why I should much joy either of my gay
house or of anything belonging thereunto, when, if I should but
seven years lie buried under the ground, and then arise and come
thither again, I should not fail to find some therein that would
bid me get out of doors, and tell me it were none of mine. What
cause have I then to like such an house as would so soon forget
his master?

So her persuasions moved him but a little.

Not long after came there to him the Lord Chancellor, the
Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk with Master Secretary and
certain other of the Privy Council, at two several times, by all
policies possible procuring l him, either precisely to confess the
Supremacy, or precisely to deny it; whereunto, as appeareth by his
examinations in the said great book, they could never bring him.

Richard Rich

Shortly hereupon, Master Rich, afterwards Lord Rich, then
newly made the King s Solicitor, Sir Richard Southwell, and one
Master Palmer, servant to the Secretary, were sent to Sir Thomas
More into the Tower to fetch away his books from him. And
while Sir Richard Southwell and Master Palmer were busy in the
trussing up of his books, Master Rich, pretending friendly talk
with him, among other things, of a set course, as it seemed, said
thus unto him;

Forasmuch as it is well known, Master More, that you are a
man both wise and well learned as well in the laws of the Realm as
otherwise, I pray you therefore, sir, let me be so bold as of good

1 persuading.

42 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

will to put unto you this case. Admit there were, sir/ quoth he,
* an Act of Parliament that all the Realm should take me for King.
Would not you, Master More, take me for King?

Yes, sir, quoth Sir Thomas More, that would I/

*I put case further, quoth Master Rich, that there were an
Act of Parliament that all the Realm should take me for Pope.
Would not you then, Master More, take me for Pope?

For answer, sir, quoth Sir Thomas More, to your first case,
the Parliament may well, Master Rich, meddle with the state of
temporal Princes. But to make answer to your other cause, I will
put this case suppose the Parliament would make a law that
God should not be God. Would you then, Master Rich, say that
God were not God?

*No, sir, quoth he, that would I not, since no Parliament may
make any such law.

No more , said Sir Thomas More, as Master Rich reported
him, could the Parliament make the King Supreme Head of the
Church.

Upon whose only report was Sir Thomas More indicted for
treason upon the statute whereby it was made treason to deny the
King to be Supreme Head of the Church. Into which indictment
were put these heinous words maliciously, traitorously, and
diabolically .

The Trial

When Sir Thomas More was brought from the Tower to
Westminster Hall to answer the indictment, and at the King s
Bench bar before the Judges thereupon arraigned, he openly told
them that he would upon that indictment have abidden x in law,
but that he thereby should have been driven to confess of himself
the matter indeed, that was the denial of the King s Supremacy,
which he protested was untrue. Wherefore he thereto pleaded not
guilty; and so reserved unto himself advantage to be taken of the
body of the matter, after verdict, to avoid that indictment, and
moreover added that if those only odious terms, maliciously,
traitorously, and diabolically were put out of the indictment he
saw therein nothing justly to charge him.

And for proof to the jury that Sir Thomas More was guilty of
this treason, Master Rich was called forth to give evidence unto
them upon his oath, as he did. Against whom thus sworn, Sir
1 awaited submissively.

WILLIAM ROPER 43

Thomas More began in this wise to say, *If I were a man, my
lords, that did not regard an oath, I needed not, as it is weD
known, in this place, at this time, nor in this case, to stand here
as an accused person. And if this oath of yours, Master Rich, be
true, then pray I that I never see God in the face, which I would
not say, were it otherwise to win the whole world. Then recited
he to the court the discourse of all their communication in the
Tower, according to the truth, and said, In good faith, Master
Rich, I am sorrier for your perjury than for my own peril. And
you shall understand that neither I, nor no man else to my know
ledge, ever took you to be a man of such credit as in any matter
of importance I, or any other, would at any time vouchsafe to
communicate with you. And I, as you know, of no small while
have been acquainted with you and your conversation, who have
known you from your youth hitherto, for we have long dwelled
in one parish together, where, as yourself can tell (I am sorry you
compel me so to say) you were esteemed very light of your tongue,
a great dicer, and of no commendable fame. And so in your house
at the Temple, where hath been your chief bringing up, were you
likewise accounted.

*Can it therefore seem likely unto your honourable lordships
that I would, in so weighty a cause, so unadvisedly overshoot
myself as to trust Master Rich, a man of me always reputed for
one of so little truth, as your lordships have heard, so far above
my Sovereign Lord the King, or any of his noble Councillors,
that I would unto him utter the secrets of my conscience touching
the King s Supremacy, the specuj point and only mark at my
hands so long sought for, a thing which I never did, nor never
would, after the statute thereof made, reveal either to the King s
Highness himself, or to any of his honourable Councillors, as it
is not unknown to your honours, at sundry several times sent
from His Grace s own person unto the Tower unto me for none
other purpose? Can this in your judgments, my lords, seem likely
to be true? And yet, if I had so done indeed, my lords, as Master
Rich hath sworn, seeing it was spoken but in familiar secret talk,
nothing affirming, and only putting of cases, without other
displeasant circumstances, it cannot justly be taken to be spoken
maliciously, and where there is no malice, there can be no offence.
And over this I can never think, my lords, that so many worthy
Bishops, so many honourable personages and so many other
worshipful, virtuous, wise and well learned men as at the making

44 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

of that law were in Parliament assembled, ever meant to have any
man punished by death in whom there could be found no malice,
taking "malitia" for "malevolentia". For if "malitia" be
generally taken for "sin", no man is there then that can thereof
excuse himself. Quia si dixerimus quod peccatum non habemus,
nosmet ipsos seducimus, et veritas in nobis non est* And only this
word "maliciously" is in the statute material, as this term
"forcible" is in the statute of forcible entries, by which statute, if
a man enter peaceably, and put not his adversary out forcibly,
it is no offence. But if he put him out forcibly, then by that
statute it is an offence, and so shall he be punished by this term
"forcibly".

Besides this, the manifold goodness of the King s Highness
himself, that hath been so many ways my singular good lord and
gracious Sovereign, that hath so dearly loved and trusted me,
even at my very first coming into his noble service with the dignity
of his honourable Privy Council vouchsafing to admit me, and to
offices of great credit and worship most liberally advanced me,
and finally with that weighty room of His Grace s High Chancellor
(the like whereof he never did to temporal man before), next to
his own royal person the highest officer in this noble Realm, so
far above my merits or qualities able and meet therefore, of his
incomparable benignity honoured and exalted me, by the space
of twenty years and more shewing his continual favour towards
me, and (until at my own poor suit, it pleased His Highness,
giving me licence, with His Majesty s favour, to bestow the
residue of my life for the provision of my soul in the service of
God, of his especial goodness thereof to discharge and unburden
me) most benignly heaped honours continually more and more
upon me all this High Highness s goodness, I say, so long thus
bountifully extended towards me, were in my mind, my lords,
matter sufficient to convince this slanderous surmise by this man
so wrongfully imagined against me.

Master Rich, seeing himself so disproved, and his credit so foul
defaced, caused Sir Richard Southwell and Master Palmer, that
at the time of their communication were in the chamber, to be
sworn what words had passed between them. Whereupon Master
Palmer upon his deposition, said that he was so busy about the
trussing up of Sir Thomas More s books in a sack, that he took

1 1 John i. 8 : * If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the
truth is not in us.

WILLIAM ROPER 45

no heed of their talk. Sir Richard Southwell likewise, upon his
deposition, said that because he was appointed only to look unto
the conveyance of his books, he gave no ear unto them.

After this were there many other reasons, not now to my
remembrance, by Sir Thomas More in his own defence alleged,
to the discredit of Master Rich s aforesaid evidence, and proof of
the clearness of his own conscience. All which notwithstanding,
the Jury found him guilty. And incontinent upon their verdict,
the Lord Chancellor, for that matter chief commissioner,
beginning to proceed in judgment against him, Sir Thomas More
said to him, * My lord, when I was toward the law, the manner in
such case was to ask the prisoner before judgment, why judgment
should not be given against him. Whereupon the Chancellor,
staying his judgment, wherein he had partly proceeded, demanded
of him what he was able to say to the contrary. Who then hi this
sort most humbly made answer:

* Forasmuch as, my lord, quoth he, * this indictment is grounded
upon an Act of Parliament directly repugnant to the laws of God
and his Holy Church, the supreme government of which or of
any part whereof, may no temporal Prince presume by any law
to take upon him, as rightfully belonging to the See of Rome, a
spiritual pre-eminence by the mouth of Our Saviour himself,
personally present upon the earth, only to St Peter and his
successors, Bishops of the same See, by special prerogative
granted, it is therefore in law amongst Christian men insufficient
to charge any Christian man. And for proof thereof, like as,
among divers other reasons and authorities, he declared that this
Realm, being but one member and small part of the Church,
might not make a particular law disagreeable with the general
law of Christ s Universal Catholic Church, no more than the City
of London, being but one poor member in respect of the whole
Realm, might make a law against an Act of Parliament to bind
the whole Realm. So farther shewed he that it was contrary both
to the laws and statutes of our own land yet unrepealed, as they
might evidently perceive in Magna Charta, Quod Anglicana
ecclesia libera sit, et habeat jura sua Integra et libertates suas
Uldesas?- And also contrary to that sacred oath which the King s
Highness himself and every other Christian Prince always with
great solemnity received at their Coronations, alleging moreover

1 That the English Church shall be free, and shall have its rights undimin-
ished and its liberties unimpaired. (First clause of the Charta.)

46 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

that no more might this Realm of England refuse obedience to the
See of Rome than might a child refuse obedience to his own
natural father. For as St Paul said to the Corinthians, *I have
regenerated you, my children in Christ. So might St Gregory,
Pope of Rome, of whom, by St Augustine, his messenger, we
first received the Christian faith, of us Englishmen truly say,
You are my children, because I have given to you everlasting
salvation, a far higher and better inheritance than any carnal
father can leave to his child, and by regeneration made you my
spiritual children in Christ.

Then was it by the Lord Chancellor thereunto answered thai
seeing all the Bishops, Universities and best learned of this Realm
had to this Act agreed, it was much marvelled that he alone
against them all would so stiffly stick thereat, and so vehemently
argue there against.

To that Sir Thomas More replied, saying, *If the number of
Bishops and Universities be so material as your lordship seemeth
to take it, then see I little cause, my lord, why that thing in my
conscience should make any change. For I nothing doubt but
that, though not in this Realm, yet in Christendom about, of
these well learned Bishops and virtuous men that are yet alive,
they be not the fewer part that be of my mind therein. But if I
should speak of those which already be dead, of whom many be
now Holy Saints in heaven, I am very sure it is the far greater part
of them that, all the while they lived, thought in this case that way
that I think now. And therefore am I not bound, my lord, to
conform my conscience to the Council of one Realm against the
General Council of Christendom.

Now when Sir Thomas More, for the voiding x of the indict
ment, had taken as many exceptions as he thought meet, and
many more reasons than I can now remember alleged, the Lord
Chancellor, loath to have the burden of that judgment wholly to
depend on himself, there openly asked advice of the Lord Fitz-
James, then Lord Chief Justice of the King s Bench, and joined
in commission with him, whether this indictment were sufficient
or not. Who, like a wise man, answered, My lords all, by St
Julian (that was ever his oath) *I must needs confess that if the
Act of Parliament be not unlawful, then is not the indictment in
my conscience insufficient.*

Whereupon the Lord Chancellor said to the rest of the lords,
1 to deprive of legal validity.

WILLIAM ROPER 47

Lo, my lords, you hear what my Lord Chief Justice saith, and
so immediately gave he judgment against him.

After which ended, the commissioners yet further courteously
offered him, if he had anything else to allege for his defence, to
grant him favourable audience. Who answered, * More have I not
to say, my lords, but that like the Blessed Apostle St Paul, as we
read in the Acts, of the Apostles, was present, and consented to
the death of St Stephen, and kept their clothes that stoned him to
death, and yet be they now both twain Holy Saints in heaven, and
shall continue there friends for ever, so I verily trust and shall
therefore right heartily pray, that though your lordships have now
here in earth been judges to my condemnation, we may yet hereafter
in heaven merrily all meet together, to our everlasting salvation.

This much touching Sir Thomas More s arraignment, being not
thereat present myself, have I by credible report, partly of the right
worshipful Sir Anthony St Leger, knight, and partly of Richard
Heywood and John Webbe, gentlemen, with others of good credit,
at the hearing thereof present themselves, as far as my poor wit
and memory would serve me, here truly rehearsed unto you.

Now, after this arraignment, departed he from the bar to the
Tower again, led by Sir William Kingston, a tall, strong and
comely knight, Constable of the Tower, and his very dear friend.
Who, when he had brought him from Westminster to the Old
Swan towards the Tower, there with an heavy heart, the tears
running down by his cheeks, bade him farewell. Sir Thomas More,
seeing him so sorrowful, comforted him with as good words as
he could, saying, Good Master Kingston, trouble not yourself,
but be of good cheer; for I will pray for you, and my good Lady
your wife, that we may meet in heaven together where we shall be
merry for ever and ever.

Soon after, Sir William Kingston, talking with me of Sir
Thomas More, said, In good faith, Master Roper, I was ashamed
of myself, that, at my departing from your father, I found my
heart so feeble, and his so strong, that he was fain to comfort me,
which should rather have comforted him.

Margaret Roper

When Sir Thomas More came from Westminster to the Tower-
ward again, his daughter, my wife, desirous to see her father,
whom she thought she should never see in this world after, and
also to have his final blessing, gave attendance about the Tower

48 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

wharf, where she knew he would pass by, before he could enter
into the Tower, there tarrying for his coming home. As soon as
she saw him, after his blessing on her knees reverently received,
she hasting towards him, and, without consideration or care of
herself, pressing in among the middest of the throng and company
of the guard, that with halberds and bills went round about him,
hastily ran to him, and there openly, in the sight of all, embraced
him, took him about the neck and kissed him. Who, well liking
her most natural and dear daughterly affection towards him, gave
her his fatherly blessing and many godly words of comfort besides.
From whom after she was departed, she, not satisfied with the
former sight of him, and like one that had forgotten herself,
being all ravished with the entire love of her dear father, having
respect neither to herself, nor to the press of the people and
multitude that were there about him, suddenly turned back again,
ran to him as before, took him about the neck, and divers times
together most lovingly kissed him, and at last, with a full heavy
heart, was fain to depart from him. The beholding whereof was to
many of them that were present thereat so lamentable that it
made them for very sorrow thereof to mourn and weep.

So remained Sir Thomas More in the Tower more than a seven-
night after his judgment. From thence, the day before he suffered,
he sent his shirt of hair (not willing to have it seen) to my wife, his
dearly beloved daughter, and a letter written with a coal, contained
in the foresaid book of his works, plainly expressing the fervent
desire he had to suffer on the morrow, in these words following:

*I cumber you, good Margaret, much, but I would be sorry if
it should be any longer than tomorrow, for tomorrow is St
Thomas s even, and the utas l of St Peter. And therefore tomorrow
long I to go to God; it were a day very meet and convenient for
me, etc. I never liked your manner towards me better than when
you kissed me last. For I like when daughterly love and dear
charity have no leisure to look to worldly courtesy.

Execution

And so upon the next morrow, being Tuesday, St Thomas s
eve, and the utas of St Peter, in the Year of Our Lord, one
thousand five hundred thirty and five (according as he in his
letter the day before had wished) early in the morning came to him
Sir Thomas Pope, his singular friend, on message from the King

1 octave.

WILLIAM ROPER 49

and his Council, that he should before nine of the clock the same
morning suffer death, and that therefore forthwith he should
prepare himself thereto.

Master Pope, quoth he, for your good tidings I most
heartily thank you. I have been always much bounden to the
King s Highness for the benefits and honours that he hath still
from time to time most bountifully heaped upon me, and yet
more bound am I to His Grace for putting me into this place,
where I have had convenient time and space to have remembrance
of my end. And so help me, God, most of all, Master Pope, am I
bound to His Highness that it pleaseth him so shortly to rid me
out of the miseries of this wretched world. And therefore will I
not fail earnestly to pray for His Grace, both here and also in
another world.

The King s pleasure is further , quoth Master Pope, that at
your execution you shall not use many words/

Master Pope,* quoth he, you do well to give me warning of
His Grace s pleasure, for otherwise I had purposed at that time
somewhat to have spoken, but of no matter wherewith His Grace,
or any other, should have had cause to be offended. Nevertheless,
whatsoever I intended I am ready obediently to conform myself
to His Grace s commandments. And I beseech you, good Master
Pope, to be a mean unto His Highness that my daughter Margaret
may be at my burial.

The King is content already , quoth Master Pope, that your
wife, children and other your friends shall have liberty to be
present thereat.

*O how much beholden then , said Sir Thomas More, am I
to His Grace that unto my poor burial vouchsafeth to have so
gracious consideration.

Wherewithal Master Pope, taking his leave of him, could not
refrain from weeping. Which Sir Thomas More perceiving, com
forted him in this wise, Quiet yourself, good Master Pope, and
be not discomforted, for I trust that we shall, once in heaven, see
each other full merrily, where we shall be sure to live and love
together, in joyful bliss eternally/

Upon whose departure, Sir Thomas More, as one that had been
invited to some solemn feast, changed himself into his best
apparel, which Master Lieutenant espying, advised him to put it
off, saying that he that should have it was but a javel. 1
1 low fellow.

50 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

4 What, Master Lieutenant/ quoth he, * shall I account him a
javel that shall do me this day so singular a benefit? Nay, I assure
you, were it cloth of gold, I would account it well bestowed on
him, as St Cyprian did, who gave his executioner thirty pieces of
gold. And albeit at length, through Master Lieutenant s impor
tunate persuasion, he altered his apparel, yet after the example of
St Cyprian, did he, of that little money that was left him, send one
angel of gold to his executioner.

And so was he by Master Lieutenant brought out of the Tower,
and from thence led towards the place of execution. Where,
going up the scaffold, which was so weak that it was ready to fall,
he said merrily to Master Lieutenant, *I pray you, Master
Lieutenant, see me safe up, and for my coming down let me shift
for myself.

Then desired he ail the people thereabout to pray for him, and
to bear witness with him that he should now suffer death in and
for the faith of the Holy Catholic Church. Which done, he knelt
down, and after his prayers said, turned to the executioner and
with a cheerful countenance spake thus to him: * Pluck up thy
spirits, man, and be not afraid to do thine office; my neck is very
short; take heed therefore thou strike not awry, for saving of
thine honesty.

So passed Sir Thomas More out of this world to God, upon
the very same day in which himself had most desired.

Soon after whose death came intelligence thereof to the
Emperor Charles. Whereupon he sent for Sir Thomas Elyot, our
English Ambassador, and said unto him: My Lord Ambassador,
we understand that the King, your master, hath put his faithful
servant and grave wise councillor, Sir Thomas More, to death.
Whereunto Sir Thomas Elyot answered that he understood
nothing thereof. * Well, said the Emperor, it is too true. And this
will we say, that if we had been master of such a servant, of whose
doings our self have had these many years no small experience,
we would rather have lost the best city of our dominions than
have lost such a worthy councillor. Which matter was by the
same Sir Thomas Elyot to myself, to my wife, to Master Clement
and his wife, to Master John Heywood and his wife, and unto
divers other his friends accordingly reported.

Finis Deo gratias

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF

SIR THOMAS MORE, KNIGHT,

SOMETIME LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR

OF ENGLAND

Written in the time of Queen Mary
by Nicholas Harpsfield

EPISTLE DEDICATORY

To THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL MASTER
WILLIAM ROPER

IT is, and has been, an old and most ancient custom, not only
among the Christians, but long also before Christ s time, at
New-year s tide every man, according to his ability, to visit and
gratify with some present his special friends and patrons. Con
formable to this custom, I do at this time (being furnished with no
worldly treasure to offer you any rich, precious gift) present your
worship even with a paper New-year s gift; but yet such as I trust,
for the devotion of my poor heart towards your worship, shall
be no less acceptable than was the dish of water presented once
by a poor man to one of the kings of Persia, where the custom
was for every man to welcome and honour the king s first coming
into their quarters with some costly gift. Which waterish gift the
good king, considering the plain, homely dealing and great and
grateful good will of the said poor man, not only took in good
part, but made more account of than of his rich and precious
gifts. Wherefore I trust, and little doubt, knowing the goodness
of your gentle nature, and considering the matter comprised in
this book, being the hie of the worthy Sir Thomas More, knight,
but that you will, of your part, in very good part take and accept
this my present.

Neither am I so careful of the acceptation on your behalf as I
am afraid on my own behalf, lest by my unskilful handling some
part of the worthiness of this man may seem to some men to be
somewhat impaired, blemished or defaced. For I do not so well
like of myself, or stand so much in mine own conceit, that I take
myself the meetest man to take such an enterprise in hand. I do
well remember that the great, famous king Alexander gave in
commandment that no man should carve his image but that
renowned carver Lysippus, no man paint his image but the
excellent painter Apelles, thinking that otherwise it would be
some disgracing to himself and his image. How much the more

53

54 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

ought the lively image of this worthy man (whom not his dead
image, being never so artificially and exquisitely set forth, but his
notable doings and sayings do to us most exactly represent) to be
by some singular artificer and workman set forth to the world,
and, as I may say, by some other more than myself. But yet,
whatsoever my skill be (which I know well is not correspondent
to such enterprise) I have somewhat the better content for that,
if I have erred, you also have erred in your choice in that you
appointed no meeter person. And I comfort myself, and it be. in
nothing else but that I have satisfied your request, and I am better
content to be taken a person unskilful than a person slothful,
unthankful and ungrateful, especially in such a matter as this is,
and to such a person as you are. For as this is a matter very
profitable, or rather necessary, to be divulged, so surely, if I be
able in this or any other matter, with any manner of commenda
tion, to enterprise anything, or to gratify any man with my
doings, you are the only man living in all the earth that by your
long and great benefits and charges employed and heaped upon
me, toward the supporting of my living and learning, have most
deeply bound me, or rather bought me, to be at your command
ment during my life. Again, if there be any matter in the world
meet and convenient to be presented and dedicated to you of any
learned man, it is this present Treatise.

I am not ignorant that you come of a worthy pedigree, both by
title father s and the mother s side: by the father s side of ancient
gentlemen of long continuance; and by the mother s side of the
Apulderfields, one of the chiefest and ancient families in Kent,
and one of the three chief gentlemen that compelled William
Conqueror to agree and confirm the ancient customs of Kent;
daughter of the great, wise and right worshipful Sir John Fineux,
Chief Justice of the King s Bench; who among his worthy and
notable sayings was wont to say that if you take away from a
Justice the order of his discretion, you take from him more than
half his office; whose steps in virtue, wisdom and learning, as
also your worshipful father s (who was Attorney to King Henry
the Eighth, and whom you in the office of Prothonotary in the
King s Bench have immediately succeeded, and shall herein by
God s grace long continue) you have, God be thanked, well and
graciously trod after. But yet you and your family are by no one
thing more adorned, made illustrious and beautified, than by this
worthy man, Sir Thomas More, in marrying his daughter, the

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 55

excellent, learned and virtuous matron, Mistress Margaret More.
He was your worthy father-in-law: what shall I say? your father-
in-law? nay, rather your very father indeed; and though a tem
poral man, yet your very spiritual father, as one that by his good
counsel and advice, or rather by his instant and devout prayers
to God, recovered your lost soul, overwhelmed and full deep
drowned in the deadly, dreadful depth of horrible heresies.

You may therefore especially at my hands vindicate and
challenge to you this my treatise, and that not only for causes
aforesaid but for other also, forasmuch as you shall receive, I
will not say a pig of your own sow (it were too homely and
swinish a term) but rather a comely and goodly garland, a
pleasant sweet nosegay of most sweet and odoriferous flowers,
picked and gathered even out of your own garden; you shall
receive a garland decked and adorned with precious pearls and
stones. The most precious whereof you have by your own travail
procured and got together, I mean of the good instructions
diligently and truly by your industry gathered, and whereof many
you know well by your own experience, which you have imparted
to me, and furnished me withal. Wherefore as all waters and rivers,
according to the saying of holy scripture, flow out of the ocean
sea, and thither do reflow again, so it is convenient you should
reap the fruit of your own labour and industry, and that it should
redound thither, from which it originally proceeded. And that
we and our posterity should know to whom to impute and ascribe
the wellspring of this great benefit, and whom we may accordingly
thank for many things now come to light of this worthy man,
which, perchance, otherwise would have been buried with per
petual oblivion. And yet we have also paid some part of the
shot, and have not been altogether negligent. We have gleaned,
I trust, some good grapes, and have with poor Ruth leased l some
good corn, as by the perusing you shall understand.

And thus 1 commit your worship to the blessed tuition of the
Almighty, who send you this and many other good and happy
New Years.

Your worship s bounden,

N. H. L. D. 2

4 gleaned.

1 Nicholas Harpsfield, Legura Doctor,

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF
SIR THOMAS MORE

THIS excellent and peerless man, whose life we have to
indite, besides all other great and beautiful outward
and perpetual arguments that God and nature adorned
him withal, was beautified (if such things may add
any weight to his commendation, as they do in the eyes and
consideration of many) as well by the place of his birth, being
born in London, the chief and notable principal city of this
our noble Realm, as by the heritage and worshipful family
whereof he sprang. His father, Master John More, was very
expert in the laws of this Realm, and for his worthiness advanced
to be one of the Justices of the King s Bench, and to the wor
shipful degree of knighthood. Who, besides his learning, was
endued with many notable and virtuous qualities and gifts. A
man very virtuous, and of a very upright and sincere conscience,
both in giving of counsel and judgment; a very merciful and
pitiful man; and, among other his good qualities and properties,
a companionable, a merry and pleasantly conceited man. And
therefore, in talking of men s wives, he would merrily say that
that choice is like as if a blind man should put his hand into a bag
full of snakes and eels together, seven snakes for one eel. When
he heard folk blame their wives, and say that they be so many of
them shrews, he could merrily say that they defame them falsely,
for he would say plainly that there was but one shrewd wife in the
world, but he said indeed that every man weeneth 1 that he hath
her, and that one was his own wife. But in this kind of proper
pleasant talk his son, with whom we now be in hand, incom
parably did exceed him. This good knight and Justice lived until
he came to a great age, and yet was for the health and use of his
body much more fresh and active than men of years commonly be
of. But after he had now so long lived, and especially that he had
seen his son High Chancellor of England, he most gladly and
willingly, when God called for it, rendered again his spirit unto
God, from whom he had received it.

Uhinketh.
57

58 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Education and Learning

But now to return to his son. Neither was he by his parents,
nor by his birth and place, so much adorned and beautified as he
did adorn and beautify them both and the whole Realm besides.
In the said City, at St Anthony s school, he learned the principles
of the Latin tongue, in the knowledge whereof when he had in
short space far surmounted his coequals, his father, seeing the
towardness and activity of his son, and being careful for his
farther good and virtuous education, procured and obtained that
he should be brought up in the house of the right reverend, the
wise and learned prelate, Cardinal Morton, who, being a man of
quick wit and deep judgment, soon espied the child s excellent
disposition and nature; who, among many other tokens of his
quick and pregnant wit, being very young, would yet notwith
standing upon the sudden step in among the Christmas players
and forthwith, without any other forethinking or premeditation,
play a part with them himself, so fitly, so plausibly and so
pleasantly, that the auditors took much admiration, and more
comfort and pleasure thereof than of all the players besides ; and
especially the Cardinal, upon whose table he waited. And often
would he tell to the nobles sitting at the table with him, * Whoso
ever liveth to see it, shall see this child come to an excellent and
marvellous proof. To whose very likely, then, and probable
forejudgment, the end and issue of this man s life hath plainly,
openly and truly answered. And so far as we may, as it were for a
wonderful and yet for a true surplusage, add to his conjectural
forejudgment our sure, constant, stable and grounded judgment,
that he was and is the oddest x and the notablest man of all
England. And that he achieved such an excellent state of worthi
ness, fame and glory as never did (especially layman) in England
before, and much doubt is there whether any man shall hereafter.
Which my saying I trust I shall justify hereafter. In the mean
season, good Reader, if thou think I pass and exceed just measure,
and would that I should show by and by what motions I have that
lead me to this censure 2 1 pray thee spare me a little while, and
give the more vigilant and attentive care to the due and deep
consideration of that I shall truly and faithfully set forth touching

J most remarkable.

1 judgment (not, as today, unfavourable).

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 59

this man. And then I hope I shall, if thou be anything indifferent, 1
satisfy my promise and thy expectation also.

This Cardinal then that had raised both to himself and others
such an expectation to this child, being now more and more
careful to have him well trained up, that his goodly bud might be
a fair flower, and at length bring forth such fruit as he and the
others expected and looked for, thought it best he should be sent
to the University of Oxford, and so he was; where, for the short
time of his abode (being not fully two years) and for his age, he
wonderfully profited in the knowledge of the Latin and Greek
tongues; where, if he had settled and fixed himself, and had run
his full race in the study of the liberal sciences and divinity, I
trow a he would have been the singular and the only spectacle of
this our time for learning. But his father minded that he should
tread after his steps, and settle his whole mind and study upon the
laws of the Realm. And so being plucked from the universities of
studies and learning, he was set to the studies of the laws only of
this Realm. Which study he commenced first at New Inn, one of
the Inns of Chancery. And when he had well-favouredly profited
therein, he was admitted to Lincoln s Inn, and there, with small
allowance, so far forth pursued his study that he was made, as he
was well worthy an Utter Barrister, Now is the law of the Realm,
and the study thereof, such as would require a whole man, wholly
and entirely thereto addicted, and a whole and entire man s life,
to grow to any excellency therein. Neither were Utter Barristers
commonly made then but after many years study.

But this man s speedy and yet substantial profiting was such
that he enjoyed some prerogative of time; and yet in this not
withstanding did he cut off from the study of the law much
time, which he employed to his former studies that he used in
Oxford; and especially to the reading of St Augustine De Civitate
Dei, which though it be a book very hard for a well learned man
to understand, and cannot be profoundly and exactly under-
standed, and especially cannot be with commendation openly
read of any man that is not well and substantially furnished as
well with divinity as profane knowledge, yet did Master More,
being so young, being so distracted also and occupied in the
study of the common laws, openly read in the Church of St
Lawrence in London the books of the said St Augustine De
Civitate Dei, to his no small commendation, and to the great
1 impartial. * believe.

6O LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

admiration of all his audience. His lesson was frequented and
honoured with the presence and resort, as well as of that well
learned and great cunning l man, Master Grocyn (with whom and
with Master Thomas Lupset he learned the Greek tongue) as also
with the chief and best learned men of the City of London. About
the same time the said Grocyn read in the aforesaid City the
books of Dionysius the Areopagite, but he had not so frequent
and so great an auditory as had Master More.

This intermission and interchange of studies was to Master
More no less comfort and recreation than it was to his auditors
good and profitable. So that from this, as it were a spiritual
exercise, he returned the lustier and fresher again to his old study
of the temporal law. And being thought expedient and meet by
the whole bench of Lincoln s Inn that he should not keep and
reserve his knowledge to his own self only, but lay it forth and
sow it abroad to the use and profit of many others, was made
Reader of Furnivars Inn. And in this trade, to the great com
modity 2 of his hearers, he continued three years and more.

Opposes Henry VII

About this time he was chosen a burgess of the Parliament, in
the later days of King Henry the Seventh. At which time there
was concluded a marriage between James, the King of the Scots,
and Lady Margaret, eldest daughter of the said King. And
because great charges would grow to the King by reason of setting
and sending forth the said Lady, he demanded of the Parliament
about three fifteenths, as it hath been reported. Now considering
the continual custom almost of all times and of all Princes, at
least from Henry the First (who gave his daughter, called com
monly Maude the Empress, in marriage to Henry the Emperor, with
no small charges put upon the commons for the same) and as well
the great and present as the long durable commodity as it was then
likely that should ensue to this realm by the marriage, it was thought
there would be small reluctance or repining against this Parliament.

Howbeit Master More, upon some apparent ground, as there
is good likelihood (for he was no rash, wilful man, and was easy
to be entreated to yield to reason) disliked upon the said payment,
and showed openly his mind therein, and with such reasons and
arguments debated and enforced the matter that the residue of
the Lower House condescended to his mind, and thereby was the
1 clever. * advantage.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 6l

Bill overthrown. And forthwith Master Tyler, one of the King s
Privy Chamber, that was present in the said House, resorted to
the King, declaring unto him that a beardless boy had dis
appointed and dashed all his purpose.

The remembrance of this displeasure sank deeply into the
king s heart, and bred great and heavy indignation against
Master More, ready upon any small occasion to burst out against
him. But yet did the King forbear, as well lest he might seem
thereby to infringe and break the ancient liberty of the Parliament
House for free speaking touching the public affairs (which would
have been taken odiously) as also for that Master More had then
little or nothing to lose. But yet was there a causeless quarrel
devised against his father, whereby he was committed to the
Tower, from whence he could not get himself out until the King
had got out of his purse a fine of one hundred pounds.

Neither yet for all this was Master More altogether forgotten,
but pretty 1 privy ways were devised how to wrap 2 him in.
Among other, at a time as he repaired to Doctor Fox, Bishop of
Winchester, and one of the King s Privy Council, and waited
upon him for a certain suit, the Bishop called him aside, and
pretending much favour, said, * If you will be ruled and ordered
by me, I doubt nothing but I shall recover and win the King s
favour to you again, meaning thereby (as it was conjectured) to
wring out of his own mouth some confession of his fault and
offence against the King, whereby the King might with some
better apparent colour fasten his displeasure upon him, and
openly revenge the same against him. Returning from the Bishop,
he fell in communication with Master Richard Whitford, his
familiar friend, then chaplain to the Bishop, and after one of the
Fathers of Syon. To whom after that he had disclosed what the
Bishop said to him, craving his good and friendly advice therein:
Master More,* said he, follow not his counsel in any wise; for
my master, to gratify the King, and to serve his turn, will not stick
to condescend and agree and it were to the death even of his own
natural father. Whereupon Master More resorted no more to the
said Bishop, and remaining ever after in great fear of the King s
indignation hanging upon him, and supposing that his longer
abode in England could not be but to his great danger, resolved
to pass over seas; which his determination was prevented and cut
off by the death of the King not long after ensuing.
1 artful. * implicate.

62 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

The Carthusians

And all this while was he unmarried, and seemed to be in some
doubt and deliberation with himself what kind and trade of life he
should enter, to follow and pursue all his long life after. Surely
it seemeth by some apparent conjectures that he was sometime
somewhat propense and inclined either to be a priest, or to take
some monastical and solitary life; for he continued after his fore-
said reading four years and more full virtuously and religiously
in great devotion and prayer with the monks of the Charterhouse
of London, without any manner of profession or vow, either to
see and prove whether he could frame himself to that kind of life,
or at least, for a time, to sequester himself from all temporal and
worldly exercises. Himself said also afterward, when his daughter
Margaret Roper (whom of all his children he did most lovingly,
most entirely and most fatherly tender) escaped against all
expectation, as we shall hereafter show, of a most dangerous
sickness, that if she had died he would never have intermeddled
with any worldly affairs after. Furthermore, being prisoner in the
Tower, he told his said daughter that his short penning and
shutting up did little grieve him; for if it had not been for respect
of his wife and children, he had voluntarily long ere that time
shut himself in as narrow or narrower a room than that was.

Now, if any man will say that, seeing the contemplative life far
exceedeth the active, according as Christ himself confesseth:
Optimam partem elegit Maria, quae non auferetur ab ea, 1 that he
marvelleth why Master More did not follow, embrace and pursue
the said inclination, to this I answer, that no man is precisely
bound so to do ; I answer further, that were it so that he had such
propension 2 and inclination, God himself seemeth to have chosen
and appointed this man to another kind of life, to serve Him
therein more acceptably to His divine honour, and more profit
ably for the wealth of the Realm and his own soul also. Of the
which our judgment we shall render you hereafter such causes as
move us so to think.

Marriage

In conclusion therefore he fell to marriage, in and under the
which he did not only live free from dishonouring the same with
any unlawful and filthy company, leaving his own wife (as many,

1 Luke x. 38 : * Mary hath chosen the best part, which shall not be taken
away from her/ * tendency.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 63

especially such as be of great wealth and authority, the more pity,
often do) but lived himself, his wife, his children and family, after
such a godly and virtuous sort as his house might rather be a
mirror and spectacle, not only to the residue of the laity, but even
to many of the Clergy also.

His wife was one Master Colt s daughter, a gentleman of
Essex, that had often invited him thither, having three daughters,
whose honest conversation and virtuous education provoked him
there especially to set his affection. And albeit his mind most
served him to the second daughter, for that he thought her the
fairest and best favoured, yet when he considered that it would be
both great grief and some shame also to the eldest to see her
younger sister in marriage preferred before her, he then of a
certain pity framed his fancy towards her, and soon after married
her; never the more discontinuing his study of the law at Lincoln s
Inn, but applying still the same until he was called to the bench,
and had read there twice, which is as often as ordinarily any
Judge of the law doth read.

Before which time he had placed himself and his wife in
Bucklersbury in London, where he had by her three daughters
and one son (called John More, to whom Erasmus did dedicate
Aristotle s works, printed by Bebelius; and three daughters,
Margaret, married to Master William Roper; Cecily, married to
Master Giles Heron; and Elizabeth, wife to Master William
Daunce); which children from their youth he brought up in
virtue and knowledge both in the Latin and the Greek tongues,
whom he would often exhort to take virtue and learning for their
meat, and play for their sauce.

Under-Sheriff

As he was born in London, so was he as well of others as of the
said City dearly beloved, and enjoyed there the first office that he
had, being made Under-Sheriff of the City. The said office, as it
is worshipful, so is it not very cumbersome; for the Judge sits
upon Thursday only, once in the week, before noon; no man
dispatched in the same office more causes than he did; no man
ever used himself more sincerely and uprightly to the suitors, to
whom often times he forgave his own fee and duty. In the said
Court it is the order, before they commence the matter, that the
plaintiff put down three groats, 1 and the defendant as much;
1 Three groats equalled one shilling.

64 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

more it is not lawful to require of them; by the which office, and
his learned counsel that he gave his clients, he gained without
grudge, grief or injury of any other man, about four hundred
pounds yearly.

Neither was there any matter in controversy of weight and
importance in any of the Prince s courts of the laws of the
Realm that he was retained for counsel of the one or the other
party; yea, he grew shortly in such worthy credit for his wit,
learning, wisdom and experience, that before he came to the
service of King Henry the Eighth, he was at the suit and instance
of the English merchants, and by the King s consent, for great
important matters between the said merchants and the merchants
of the Steelyard (albeit commonly such embassies are com
mitted to civilians) sent twice ambassador over the seas. He of his
own self and of nature neither desired nor well liked to be intri-
cated with Princes* affairs, and of all other offices he had little
mind and fancy to be any ambassador, and least to this embassy,
for that he liked not to have his abode (as he had) and, as it were,
to be shut up in a Town near to the sea, where neither the ground
nor the air was good and wholesome. Again, whereas in England
of very nature he did abhor from grievous and contentious
altercations and strifes, though he felt thereby a gain, such con
tentions in a strange country were much more grievous and
odious to him, and by so much the more as he felt thereby some
damage. For though he were worshipfully provided and furnished
for the defraying of his charges, yet grew there some charges to
him; and he was merrily wont to say that there was between a
layman and a priest to be sent in embassy a very great difference;
for the priests need not to be troubled or disquieted by the absence
of their wives and children (as having none, or such as they may
find everywhere) as the layman is, and may carry their whole
family with them, as the layman cannot. He would also farther
pleasantly say that albeit he were no ill husband, no ill father, no
ill master, yet could he not entreat his wife, children or family to
fast for his pleasure until his return. But yet all this notwith
standing, the office once put upon him, not desired, expected or
looked for on his part, he forslowed l nothing for the advancing
and happy expedition of the same, and so therein demeaned
himself that after his return he purchased to himself great

delayed.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 65

the King himself; who, at his return, offered him for some
recompense of his travail an annual pension during his life.
Which, though it was honourable and fruitful, yet did he refuse it,
lest he should be occasioned thereby to relinquish his former state,
condition and office (which he preferred to be much better) or
keep it with some discontentation of the citizens of London, who
perchance might conceive some sinister suspicion of him, that
when any controversy should afterward chance (as there did
often) between the King and the City for their privileges, he
would not bear himself uprightly and sincerely, being, as it were,
somewhat wrapped in, entangled and aflfectionated, by reason of
this pension.

Moreover the King was in hand with Cardinal Wolsey, then
Lord Chancellor, to win him and procure him to His Grace s
service. The Cardinal did not forslow * the matter, but inconti
nently travailed, and that very earnestly with him, with many
persuasions, which he did among other enforce with this, that
this service must needs be dear to His Majesty, which could not
with his honour with less than he should lose thereby seem to
recompense him. Yet he, being very loath to shift and change his
state and condition, wrought so with the Cardinal that by the
King was satisfied for the time, and accepted Master More s
excuse. I say for the time. For this man s worthy estimation and
fame so grew every day more than other, that a while after the
King could by no manner of entreaty be induced any longer to
forbear his service, and that upon this occasion.

There chanced a great ship of his that then was Pope to arrive
at Southampton, the which the King claimed as a forfeiture.
Whereupon the Pope s ambassador, then resident in the realm,
upon suit obtained of the King that he might retain for his
master some counsellors learned in the laws of the Realm and
that hi his own presence (himself being a singular 2 civilian) the
matter might in some public place be openly heard, debated and
discoursed. Among all the lawyers, no one could be found so apt
and meet as Master More, as one that was able to report to the
ambassador all the reasons and arguments on both sides proposed
and alleged. Upon this the counsellors of either party, in the
presence of the Lord Chancellor and other the Judges in the Star
Chamber, had audience accordingly. At what time Master More
was not only a bare reporter to the ambassador, but argued
1 delay. * of exceptional status.

66 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

himself also so learnedly and so substantially that he recovered
and won to the Pope the said forfeiture, and to himself high com
mendation and renown.

Privy Councillor

Being then upon this occasion retained in the King s service,
the King gave him a notable and worthy lesson and charge, that
in all his doings and affairs touching the King, he should first
respect and regard God, and afterwards the King his master,
which lesson and instruction never was there, I trow, 1 any
prince s servant that more willingly heard, or more faithfully and
effectually executed and accomplished, as you shall hereafter
better understand.

At his first entrance, being then no better room void, he was
made Master of Requests, and within a month he was made
knight and one of the King s Privy Council. After the death of
Master Weston, he was made Under-Treasurer of the Exchequer;
and then afterward, upon the death of Sir Richard Wingfield,
Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster; and at length advanced
to be Lord Chancellor of England. The which offices, as he
obtained by the King s goodness, by his mere voluntary and free
disposition, without any suit or solicitation of his own behalf, so
did he use himself therein with all good dexterity, wisdom and
equity, sincerity and incorruption, and in this race of the King s
service he ran painfully, widely and honourably, twenty years and
above.

The King s friendliness

Neither was there any man that the King used more familiarly,
nor with whom he more debated, not only for public affairs, but
in matters of learning, withal taking great comfort besides in his
merry and pleasantly conceited wit. And took such pleasure in
his company that he would sometime, upon the sudden, come to
his house at Chelsea to be merry with him. Whither on a time,
unlocked for, he came to dinner to him; and after dinner, in a
fair garden of his, walked with him by the space of an hour,
holding his arm about his neck. Of all the which favour he
made no more account than a deep wise man should do, and as
the nature and disposition of the King (which he deeply and
thoroughly perceived) did require, and as indeed he afterward in

1 believe.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 6?

himself most of all men experienced. Wherefore even at this time,
when flattering fortune seemed most pleasantly to smile upon
him, and all things seemed as fair and beautiful as the lustre of a
bright diamond, he well thought as well upon the disposition and
inclination of the said Prince as upon the frail, instable and brittle
state of such as seem to be in high favour of their Princes.

Wherefore, when that after the King s departure his son-in-
law, Master William Roper, rejoicingly came to him, saying these
words : * Sir, how happy are you whom the King hath so familiarly
entertained, as I never have seen him to do any other except
Cardinal Wolsey, whom I saw His Grace walk withal arm in
arm ; Sir Thomas More answered in this sort: I thank our Lord,
son, I find His Grace my very good Lord indeed; and I believe
he doth as singularly favour me as he doth any subject within this
Realm. Howbeit, son Roper, I may tell thee I have no cause to be
proud thereof; for if my head could win him a castle in France*
(for then was there war between France and us) * it should not fail
to serve his turn.

After that Sir Thomas More had now continued about nine
years in the King s service, Charles the Emperor came into the
Realm, and was most honourably and magnificently received in
the City of London. At which time Sir Thomas More made a
fine and eloquent oration in the presence of the Emperor and the
King, in their praise and commendation, and of the great amity
and love that the one bare the other, and the singular comfort
that the subjects of both Realms received thereof.

Speaker

The said year (which was the fourteenth year of the King s
reign) a Parliament was summoned, where the Commons chose
for their Speaker Sir Thomas More, and presented him the
Saturday after in the Parliament Chamber, where he disabled
himself as a man not meet for that office. Among other things he
brought forth a story of the noble captain Hannibal, to whom at a
certain time Phormio commenced a solemn declaration touching
chivalry and the feats of war, which was well liked and praised
of many ; but Hannibal, being demanded what he thought thereof,
answered: I never heard a more proud, arrogant fool, that durst
take upon him to instruct the flower and master of chivalry in the
feats and affairs of war. So , saith Sir Thomas, I may well look
for and fear the like rebuke at the King s hands, if I should

68 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

arrogate so much to myself as to speak before the King of such
learning, wisdom and experience in public affairs, of the manur
ing, welding and ordering of the same. Wherefore my humble
petition is, that the Commons may freely choose some other for
their Speaker.* But the Cardinal answered that the King by
good proof and experience knew his wit, learning and discretion
to be such as he might well bear and satisfy the office, and that the
Commons could not choose a meeter.

In the end, when the King would not consent to the election
of any other, he spake to His Grace in form following:

Since I perceive, most redoubted Sovereign, that it standeth
not with your high pleasure to reform this election, and cause it
to be changed, but have by the mouth of the most reverend
father in God, the Legate, your High Chancellor, thereunto given
your most royal assent, and have of your benignity determined,
far above what I may bear, to enable me and for this office to
repute me meet, rather than you should seem to impute unto your
Commons that they are unmeetly chosen; I am therefore, and
always shall be, ready obediently to conform myself to the
accomplishment of your high commandment, in my most humble
wise beseeching your most noble Majesty that I may, with your
Grace s favour, before I farther enter there into, make my humble
intercession unto your Highness for two lowly petitions: the one
privately concerning myself, the other the whole assemble of
your Common House.

For myself, gracious Sovereign, that if it mishap me, in any
thing hereafter that is on the behalf of your Commons in your
high presence to be declared, to mistake my message, and in lack
of good utterance by my misrehearsal to pervert or impair their
prudent instructions, it may then like your most noble Majesty,
of your abundant grace, with the eye of your accustomed pity, to
pardon my simpleness, giving me leave to repair again unto the
Common House, and there to confer with them, and to take their
substantial advice what thing, and in what wise, I shall on their
behalf utter and speak before your noble Grace, to the intent
their prudent devices x and affairs be not by my simpleness and
folly hindered or impaired. Which thing, if it should mishap, as it
were well likely to mishap me, if your gracious benignity relieved
not my oversight, it could not fail to be, during my life, a per
petual grudge and heaviness to my heart; the help and remedy

1 opinions.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 69

whereof, in manner afore remembered, is, most gracious
Sovereign, my first lowly suit and humble petition unto your
most noble Grace.

Mine other humble request, most excellent Prince, is this:
That forasmuch as there be of your Commons, here by your high
commandment assembled, of your Parliament, a great number,
which are, after the accustomed manner, appointed in the
Common House to treat and devise of the common affairs among
themselves apart: and albeit, most dear liege Lord, that according
to your most prudent device, by your honourable writs every
where declared, there hath been as due diligence used in sending
up to your Highness* Court of Parliament the most discreet
persons out of every quarter that men could esteem meet there
unto, whereby it is not to be doubted but that there is a very
substantial assembly of right wise and politic persons; yet, most
victorious Prince, since among so many wise men neither is every
man wise alike, nor, among so many men all like well witted,
every man like well spoken, and it often happeth that likewise as
much folly is uttered with painted, polished speech, so many men,
boisterous and rude in language, so deep in deed, and give right
substantial counsel, and since also in matters of great importance
the mind is often so occupied in the matter, that a man rather
studieth what to say than how; by reason whereof the wisest man,
and the best spoken, hi a whole country fortuneth among, while
his mind is fervent in the matter, somewhat to speak in such wise
as he would afterward wish to have been uttered otherwise, and
yet no worse will had when he spake it, than he hath when he
would so gladly change it; therefore, most gracious Sovereign,
considering that in your high Court of Parliament is nothing
entreated but matter of weigjit and importance concerning your
Realm and your own royal estate, it could not fail, but to let and
put to silence from the giving of their advice and counsel many of
your discreet Commons, to the great hindrance of the common
affairs, except that every of your Commons were utterly dis
charged of all doubt and fear how anything that it should happen
them to speak, should happen of your Highness to be taken. And
in this point, though your well known and proud benignity
putteth every man in right good hope, yet such is the weight of
the matter, such is the reverend dread that the timorous hearts of
your natural subjects conceive toward your High Majesty, our
most redoubted King and undoubted Sovereign, that they cannot

70 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

in this point find themselves satisfied, except your gracious bounty
therein declared put away the scruple of their timorous minds,
and animate and encourage them, and put them out of doubt. It
may therefore like your most abundant Grace, our most benign
and godly King, to give to all your Commons here assembled
your most gracious licence and pardon, freely, without doubt of
your dreadful displeasure, every man to discharge his conscience,
and boldly in anything incident among us to declare his advice;
and whatsoever happen any man to say, that it may like your
noble Majesty of your inestimable goodness to take all in good
part, interpreting every man s words, how uncomely soever they
be couched, to proceed yet of good zeal toward the profit of your
Realm and honour of your royal person; the prosperous efctate
and preservation whereof, most excellent Sovereign, is the thing
which we all, your most humble loving subjects, according to the
most bounden duty of our natural allegiance, most highly desire
and pray for.

Clashes with Wolsey

At this Parliament Cardinal Wolsey found himself much
grieved with the Burgesses thereof, for that nothing was so soon
done or spoken therein, but that it was immediately blown abroad
in every alehouse. It fortuned at that Parliament a very great
subsidy to be demanded, which the Cardinal fearing would not
pass the Common House, determined for the furtherance thereof
to be there personally himself. Before whose coming, after long
debating there, whether it were better but with a few of his lords
(as the most opinion of the House was) or with his whole train
royally to receive him there among them: Masters, quoth Sir
Thomas More, foreasmuch as my Lord Cardinal lately, you wot
well, laid to our charge the lightness of our tongues for things
uttered in this House, it shall not be in my mind amiss with all
his pomp to receive him, with his maces, his pillars, his poleaxes,
his crosses, his hat and the Great Seal too, to the intent, if he find
the like fault with us hereafter, we may be the bolder from our
selves to lay the blame upon those that his Grace bringeth with
him. Whereupon the House wholly agreeing, he was received
accordingly.

Where, after that he had in a solemn oration by many reasons
proved how necessary it was the demand there to be granted, and
farther showed that less would not serve to maintain the Prince s

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 71

purpose, he seeing the company sitting still silent and thereunto
nothing answering, and contrary to his expectation showing them
selves towards his requests no towardness of inclination, said unto
them: * Masters, you have many wise and learned men among
you; and since I am from the King s own person sent hither unto
you for the preservation of yourselves and all the Realm, I think
it meet you give me some reasonable answer. Whereat every man
holding his peace, then began he to speak to one Master Marney,
afterwards Lord Marney; who making him no answer neither,
he severally asked the same question of divers others accounted
the wisest of the company. To whom, when none of them all
would give so much as one word, being before agreed (as the
custom was) by their Speaker to make answer: Masters/ quoth
the Cardinal, * unless it be the manner of your House, as of
likelihood it is, by the mouth of your Speaker, whom you have
chosen for trusty and wise, as indeed he is, in such cases to utter
your minds, here is, without doubt, a marvellous obstinate
silence.* And thereupon required he answer of Master Speaker,
who first reverently upon his knees excusing the silence of the
House, abashed at the presence of so noble a personage, able to
amaze the wisest and best learned in a Realm, and after by many
and probable arguments proving that for them to make answer
was it neither expedient nor agreeable with the ancient liberty of
the House, in conclusion for himself showed, that thougfe they
had all with their voices trusted him, yet except every one of them
could put into his head all their several wits, he alone in so
weighty a matter was unmeet to make his Grace answer.

Whereupon the Cardinal, displeased with Sir Thomas More,
that had not in this Parliament in all things satisfied his desire,
suddenly arose and departed; and after the Parliament ended, in
his gallery at Whitehall at Westminster, uttered unto him His
griefs, saying: * Would to God you had been at Rome, Master
More, when I made you Speaker. Your Grace not offended, so
would I too, my lord, quoth he. And to wind such quarrels out
of the Cardinal s head, he began to talk of that gallery, and said,
I like this gallery of yours, my lord, much better than your
gallery at Hampton Court. Wherewith so wisely he brake off the
Cardinal s displeasant talk that the Cardinal, at that present, as
it seemed, wist x not what more to say to him; but, for revenge-
ment of his displeasure, counselled the King to send him

1 knew.

72 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

ambassador into Spain, commending to His Highness his wisdom,
learning and meetness for that voyage; and the difficulty of the
cause considered, none was there, he said, so well able to serve
his Grace therein. Which when the King had broken to Sir
Thomas More, and that he had declared unto His Grace how
unfit a journey it was for him, the nature of the country and
disposition of his complexion so disagreeing together that he
should never be likely to do His Grace acceptable service there,
knowing right well that, if His Grace sent him thither, he should
send him into his grave, but showing himself nevertheless ready,
according to his duty, all were it with the loss of his life, to fulfil
His Grace s pleasure in that behalf: the King, allowing full well
his answer, said unto him, It is not our meaning, Master More,
to do you hurt, but to do you good would we be glad. We will
therefore for this purpose devise upon some other, and employ
your service otherwise.

Truly this Cardinal did not heartily love Sir Thomas More, yea,
he rather feared him than loved him. And albeit he were adorned
with many goodly graces and qualities, yet was he of so out
rageous aspiring, ambitious nature, and so fed with vainglory
and with the hearing of his own praise, and by the excess thereof
fallen, as it were, into a pleasant frenzy, that the enormous fault
overwhelmed, defaced and destroyed the true commendation of
all his good properties. He sore longed and thirsted after the
hearing of his own praise, not only when he had done some
things commendable, but even when he had sometimes done that
that was naught indeed.

Of this vainglorious, scabbed, 1 itching folly to hear his own
praise, leaving divers other that we have in store, we will show
you one sample, and the rather because Sir Thomas More doth
both tell it, and was also present the same time. Albeit he telleth
it under dissembled and counterfeit names, as well of the persons
as country described, wherein I will shift none of the author s
words, but as he wrote them, recite them, saving I will recite them
in his own person, and somewhat abridge them:

* So it happened one day that the Cardinal had in great audience
made an oration, &c., in a certain matter, wherein he liked him
self so well that at his dinner he sat, he thought, on thorns, till
he might hear how they that sat with him at his board would
commend it. And when he had sat musing a while, devising (as I

1 scurvy.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 73

thought after) upon some proper pretty way to bring it in withal, at
the last, for lack of a better (test he should have let the matter go too
long) he brought it even bluntly forth, and asked us all that sat at
his board s end (for at his own mess in the middle they sat but him
self alone) how well we likedhis oration that he had made that day.

When the problem was once propounded, till it was full
answered, no man (I ween) ate one morsel of meat more, every
man was fallen into so deep a study for the finding of some praise.
For he that should have brought out but a vulgar and a common
commendation, would have thought himself shamed for ever.
Then said we our sentences by row x as we sat, from the lowest
unto the highest, in good order, as it had been a great matter of
the common weal in a high solemn council. When it came to my
part, I will not say for any boast, methought, by our Lady, for
my part I quit myself metely well, but I liked myself the better
because, methought, my words went with some grace in the
English tongue, wherein, letting my Latin alone, me listed to
show my cunning. And I hoped to be liked the better because I
saw that he that sat next to me, and should say his sentence after
me, was an unlearned priest, for he could speak no Latin at all.
But when he came forth with his part for my lord s commenda
tion, the wily fox had been so well accustomed in court with the
craft of flattery, that he went beyond me too too far. And then
might I see by him what excellency a right mean wit may come to
in one craft, that in all his whole life studieth and busieth his wit
about no more but that one. But I made after a solemn vow unto
myself, that if ever he and I were matched together at that board
again, when we should fall to our flattery, I would flatter in Latin,
that he should not contend with me any more; for though I could
be content to be outrun of a horse, yet would I no more abide it
to be outrun by an ass.

But here now began the game. He that sat highest, and was
to speak, was a great beneficed man, and not a doctor only, but
also somewhat learned in the laws of the Church. A world it was
to see how he marked every man s word that spake before him,
and it seemed that every word, the more proper it was, the worse
he liked it, for the cumbrance that he had to study out a better
to pass it. The man even so sweat with labour, so that he was
fain in the while, now and then, to wipe his face. Howbeit, in
conclusion, when it came to his course, we that had spoken before

1 in turn.

74 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

him had so taken up all among us before, that we had not left him
one wise word to speak after. And yet found he out such a shift,
that in his flattering he passed all the many of us. For when he
saw that he could find no words of praise that would pass all that
had been spoken before already, the wily fox would speak never
a word, but as he that was ravished with the wonder of the
wisdom and eloquence that my lord s Grace had uttered in that
oration, he fett x a long sigh, with an Oh, from the bottom of his
breast, and held up both his hands, and lift up his head, and cast
up his eyes into the welkin and wept.

In this vainglorious pageant of my Lord Cardinal, though, as
it appeareth, Sir Thomas More was in a manner forced, contrary
to his sober and well known modest nature, to play a part to
accommodate himself somewhat to the players in this foolish,
fond stage play, yet I doubt nothing, if his answer were certainly
known, he played no other part than might beseem his grave,
modest person, and kept himself within reasonable bounds, and
yielded none other than competent praise. For in very deed the
oration was not to be dispraised or disliked. But, as we began to
say, whether it were for that, as it is not unlikely, that Sir Thomas
More would not magnify all the Cardinal s doings and sayings
above the stars (as he many times expected) and cry, Sanctus,
Sanctus, Sanctus, &c., or that the Cardinal feared him for his
excellent qualities, and envied him for the singular favour that he
well knew the King bare to him, and thereby doubted lest he
might stand in his way to shadow and obscure some part of his
great shining lustre and glory (which thoughts that he had now
and then among other it is very probable), or were it for the
Parliament sake we spake of, or for some other causes, he never
entirely and from the heart loved him. And doubtless, if Sir
Thomas More had been of so high, immoderate, aspiring mind
as was the Cardinal, he might have perchance given him a fall
long ere he took his fall, and have shifted him from the saddle of
the Lord Chancellorship, and might have sit therein before he
did; whose fall and ruin he neither procured nor desired, as the
world well knoweth, and much less his great office, whereunto he
worthily succeeded. Yea, the Cardinal himself, when he saw he
should needs forgo the same, though he never bare him as I have
said, true hearty affection, yet did he confess that Sir Thomas
More was the aptest and fittest man in the Realm for the same:

1 fetched.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 75

whose great excellent wit and learning, whose singular qualities,
graces and gifts, whose profound politic head in the civil affairs,
as well inwardly as outwardly, the said Cardinal by long time
certainly, and, as I might say, feelingly knew; as with whom,
beside all other experiences of him, he had been twice joined in
commission and sent Ambassador, once to the Emperor Charles
into Flanders, the other time to the French King into France.

And thus much by the way of this Cardinal, whose remem
brance and doings I would to God I might now put away, and
here break off, or that I might have better matter to write on. But
as our former declaration is incident to our matter, so now the
very consequence and course of our story taken in hand forceth
farther to enlarge of his doings, as alas, and woe the time that
ever he was born. And thrice happy had he been if he had trod
the virtuous steps that this worthy man, who followed him in the
office of the Lord Chancellor, treaded. If he had, I say, followed
his modest, soft, sober, nothing revenging and nothing ambitious
nature, if he had showed himself a true, faithful, virtuous Coun
cillor to his Prince, then had he preserved himself from the foul
shameful fall and ruin that he headlong, by his outrageous ambition
and revengeable nature, cast himself hi ; then had he preserved his
Prince from the foul enormous faults and cruelties he after fell
to; then had he preserved this worthy man, of whose story we be
in hand, and that noble Prelate, the good Bishop of Rochester,
and also the blessed, and, as I may say, the living Saints, the
monks of the Charterhouse, with many other, from foul butchery
slaughter; then finally had he preserved the whole Realm from
the heinous and hideous schisms and heresies wherewith since
it hath been lamentably overwhelmed. Which things, though he
never intended, or once, I suppose, thought should so chance, yet
did all these and other many and main 1 mischiefs rise and spring
originally, as it were certain detestable branches out of the root
of his cursed and wicked ambition and revenging nature. A
pitiful and lamentable example of all posterity to mark and
behold, and thereby the better to detest and eschew all such
wretched and wicked ambition.

Queen Katherine

The beginning and spring, the true though lamentable process
of the which doings, albeit it be loathsome and rueful to be

1 great.

76 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

remembered, I am now driven, for the better and fuller under
standing of our matter taken in hand, a little at large to open and
discover; I mean of the divorce between King Henry and Queen
Katherine, moved and procured by the said Cardinal: who, for
the better achieving of his purpose requested (as it is commonly
reported) Longland, Bishop of Lincoln, and ghostly father 1 to
the King, to put a scruple into His Grace s head that it was not
lawful for him to marry his brother s wife. Howbeit, concerning
the said Bishop, though it was so commonly bruited abroad and
believed, yet have I heard Doctor Draycot, that was his chaplain
and chancellor, say that he once told the Bishop what rumour
ran upon him in that matter, and desired to know of him the very
truth. Who answered that in very deed he did not break the matter
after that sort as is said, but the King broke the matter to him
first, and never left urging of him until he had won him to give his
consent to others that were the chief settlers forth of the divorce
between the King and Queen Katherine. Of the which his doings
he did sore forethink himself, and repented afterward, declaring
to the said doctor that there was never any one thing that did so
much and so grievously nip his heart as did that his consent and
doing toward the said divorce.

Yet is it most credible that the said Cardinal was the first
author and instigator of this divorce, and that for this cause, as
Queen Katherine herself laid afterward to his charge. The See of
Rome being at that time void, the Cardinal, being a man very
ambitious and desirous to aspire to that dignity, wherein he had
good hope and likelihood, perceiving himself frustrate and
eluded of this his aspiring expectation by the means of the
Emperor Charles commending Cardinal Adrian, sometime his
schoolmaster, to the Cardinals of Rome, for his great learning,
virtue and worthiness, who thereupon was elected Pope (and
coming from Spain, whereof he had under the said Charles the
chief government, before his entry into the City of Rome putting
off his hose and shoes, and, as I have heard it credibly reported,
barefoot and barelegged passed through the streets towards his
palace, with such humbleness as all the people had him in great
reverence) the Cardinal, I say, waxed so wood 2 therewith that
he studied to invent all ways of revengement of his grief against
the Emperor: which, as it was the beginning of a lamentable

1 spiritual director.

2 angry, mad,

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 77

tragedy, so some part of it, not as impertinent to my present
purpose, I reckon requisite here to put in remembrance.

This Cardinal therefore, not ignorant of the King s unconstant
and mutable disposition (soon inclined to withdraw his devotion
from his own most noble, virtuous and lawful wife, Queen
Katherine, aunt to the Emperor, upon every light occasion, and
upon other, to her in nobility, wisdom, virtue, favour and beauty
far incomparable, to fix his affection) meaning to make this his
so light disposition an instrument to bring about his ungodly
intent, devised to allure the King to cast his fancy unto one of
the French Kong s sisters, the Duchess of Alen$on, because of the
enmity and war that was at that time between the French King
and the Emperor, whom for the cause afore remembered he
mortally maligned.

And not long after was he sent Ambassador to entreat and
conclude for the perfecting of the said marriage. But O the great
providence and just judgment of God, O the unfortunate (but
yet condign) events of wretched and mischievous counsel! This
Cardinal then, though never Ambassador, I trow, before in this
realm set forth himself so costly, so pompously and so gorgeously,
though he thought by this means to make himself in the King s
Grace s favour (whom he already thoroughly possessed, and
altogether ruled) more steadfast, sure and fast, yet was there never
man that either had less honour or worse luck of his embassy or
of his whole enterprise, as being the very means and occasion that
he was utterly undone and overthrown.

For in the mean season had the King (contrary to his mind,
nothing less looking for) fallen in love with Lady Anne Boleyn,
upon whom his heart was now so thoroughly and entirely fixed,
that there was a messenger dispatched with letters after the
Cardinal, willing him that of other matters he should break with
the French King, but in no case of any marriage. The Lady Anne
Boleyn was so grievously offended with the Cardinal for moving
the King touching the said French King s sister, that she never
ceased to press and urge the King utterly to undo the Cardinal.
Whereunto the King was otherwise also incensed, as we shall
hereafter declare, thinking that either the Cardinal had changed
his mind and misliked the whole marriage, or at least was nothing
so forward therein, nor conformable to his mind, as he had
looked for at his hands.

78 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

The King consults him on the Marriage

Now when this matter was once broached, the King opened it
with the first to Sir Thomas More, whose counsel he required
therein showing him certain places of Scripture that somewhat
seemed to serve his appetite: which, when he had perused, and
thereupon, as one that had never professed the study of divinity,
himself excused to be unmeet many ways to meddle with such
matters, the King, not satisfied with this answer, so sore still
pressed upon him therefore, that in conclusion he condescended
to His Grace s motion. And forasmuch as the case was of such
importance as needed good advisement and deliberation, he
besought His Grace of sufficient respite advisedly to consider of
it. Wherewith the King, well contented, said unto him that
Tunstall and Clark, Bishops of Durham and Bath, with other
learned of his Privy Council, should also be doers therein.

So Sir Thomas More departing, conferred those places of
Scripture with the expositions of divers of the old Holy Doctors.
And at his next coming to the court, in talking with His Grace
of the aforesaid matter, he said, To be plain with your Grace,
neither my Lord of Durham, nor my Lord of Bath, though I
know them both to be wise, virtuous, learned and honourable
prelates, nor myself, with the rest of your Council, being all your
Grace s own servants, for your manifold benefits daily bestowed
upon us most bounden unto you, be, in my judgment, meet
counsellors for your Grace therein. But if your Grace mind to
understand the truth, such Councillors may you have devised as
neither for respect of their own worldly commodity, nor for fear
of your princely authority, will be inclined to deceive you. To
whom he named then St Jerome, St Augustine and divers others
old Holy Doctors, both Greeks and Latins ; and moreover showed
him what authorities he had gathered out of them: which
although the King, as disagreeable with his desire, did not very
well like of, yet were they by Sir Thomas More (who in all his
communication with the King in that matter had always most
discreetly behaved himself) so wisely tempered, that he both
presently took them in good part, and often times had thereof
conference with him again.

After this there were certain questions among the Council
propounded, whether the King needed in this case to have any
scruple at all, and if he had, what way were best to be taken to

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 79

deliver him of it. The most part of whom were of the opinion that
there was good cause of scruple, and that for the discharge of it,
suit were meet to be made to the See of Rome, where the Kong
hoped by liberality to obtain his purppse; wherein, as it afterward
appeared, he was far deceived,

The Commission on the Marriage

Then was there for the trial and examination of this matrimony
procured from Rome a Commission, in which Cardinal Cam-
peggio and Cardinal Wolsey were joined Commissioners, who
for the determination thereof sat at the Blackfriars in London,
where a libel x was put in for the annulling of the said matrimony,
alleging the marriage between the King and the Queen to be
unlawful. And for the proof of the marriage to be lawful was there
brought in a dispensation, in which, after divers disputations
thereupon holden, there appeared an imperfection, which by an
instrument or brief, upon search found in the Treasury of Spain,
and sent to the Commissioners into England, was supplied; and
so should judgment have been given by the Pope accordingly,
had not the King, upon intelligence thereof, before the same
judgment, appealed to the next General Council. After whose
appellation the Cardinal upon that matter sat no longer.

The supplying we spake of was thus. When that Prince Arthur
was dead, to whom Lady Katherine was married, there was by
the suit of King Henry the Seventh, after long consultation and
debating the matter both in Spain and Rome, a dispensation
gotten that Lord Henry, Prince Arthur s brother, might marry
her; but yet because some doubted whether that the said Prince
Arthur did ever carnally know her or no before his death, whereof
might perchance in time grow a question against the validity of
the marriage (as indeed afterward there did) the two wise Kings
of England and Spain procured another brief, in the which (for
more abundant caution) it was particularly specified that not
withstanding any carnal copulation, if any such haply were
between the said Arthur and Lady Katherine, the marriage
should be good and available.

Before the Cardinal Campeggio and Cardinal Wolsey the

Pope s Legate, sat upon this matter, Sir Thomas More was sent

beyond the sea for certain of the King s affairs. At his return,

when he repaired to the King at Hampton Court, the King break

1 plaintiff s statement.

80 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

again with him of this matter, and showed him that it was per
ceived that his marriage was not only against the positive laws of
the Church and the written law of God, but also in such sort
against the law of nature that it could in no wise by the Church
be relieved or dispensed withal; and incontinently laid the Bible
open before him, and there read such words as moved him and
other learned persons so to think. But when he had asked Sir
Thomas More what he thought upon these words, and perceived
that Sir Thomas More s mind was not correspondent to his own
mind, willed him to commune further with Master Foxe his
almoner, and to read a book with him that then was in making
for the matter.

Treaty of Cambrai

After which time the suit began, and the Legates, as we have
showed, sat upon the matter. And while the Legates were yet
sitting, it pleased the King to send Sir Thomas More with Doctor
Tunstall, then Bishop of London and afterwards of Durham, in
embassy about the peace, that at their being there was concluded
at Cambrai between the Emperor, his Highness and the French
King. In the concluding whereof Sir Thomas More so worthily
handled himself (procuring in our league more benefits unto this
Realm than at any time by the King and his Council was thought
possible to be compassed) that for his good service in that voyage,
the King, when he after made him Lord Chancellor, caused the
Duke of Norfolk openly to declare to the people how much all
England was bounden to him.

The King again consults him on the Marriage

Now upon his coming home from Cambrai, the King earnestly
persuaded Sir Thomas More to condescend to the matter of the
marriage, by many ways provoking him thereto ; for which, it was
thought, he the rather soon after made him Lord Chancellor;
eftsoons repeating unto him among other motives the new
scruple that was found (as we have declared) that the former
marriage was so directly against the law of nature that no dis
pensation could repair, reform or supply that defect, as Doctor
Stokesley (whom he had preferred to the Bishopric of London and
in that case chiefly credited) was able to instruct him, with whom
he prayed him in that point to confer. But for all his conference
with him, he saw nothing of such force as could induce him to

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 8 I

change his opinion therein; which, notwithstanding, the Bishop
showed himself in his report of him to the King s Highness so
good and favourable, that he said he found him in his Grace s
cause very toward, and desirous to find some matter wherewith
he might truly serve his Grace to his contentation.

This Bishop Stokesley, being by the Cardinal not long before
in the Star Chamber openly put to rebuke, and afterward sent to
the Fleet, thought that forasmuch as the Cardinal, for lack of
such forwardness in setting forth the King s divorce as his Grace
looked for, was out of His Highness s favour, he had now a good
occasion offered him to revenge his quarrel against him, farther
to incense the King s displeasure toward him busily travailed to
invent some colourable device for the King s furtherance in that
behalf; which, as before is mentioned, he to His Grace revealed,
hoping thereby to bring the King to the better liking of himself
and the more misliking of the Cardinal, whom His Highness
therefore soon after of his office displaced, and to Sir Thomas
More (the rather to move him to incline to his side) the same in
his stead committed.

Praemunire

The said Cardinal, a while after, albeit he was taken and
received and used as a Legate from the ninth year of the King s
reign, as well as by the whole Realm as by the King himself (and
the said office procured, as it was thought, to him not without
the King s help and mediation) yet beside many other great and
heinous offences laid to his charge, was by the Kong s learned
counsel, for the practising and exercising of the same office with
out the King s special licence in writing, and the whole clergy
withal, for acknowledging the said legatine authority, found fallen
into a Praemunire. And the Province of Canterbury, to recover
the King s favour and grace (beside like contribution for the rate
of the Province of York) was fain to defray to the King s use one
hundred thousand pounds.

The Cardinal, being in his diocese of York, was arrested, and
sent for to make answer to such accusations as were laid against
him. But the main sorrow and grief that he had conceived of these
his troubles, with farther fear of other generous events, had so
deeply sunk into his heart that it cut off a great part of his journey
and his life withal. And this end fell upon him that was the first
and principal instrument of this unhappy divorce.

82 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Lord Chancellor

But now let us return to Sir Thomas More, newly made Lord
Chancellor, which office, I suppose, verily he was of himself very
unwilling to take upon him, and would have earnestly refused the
same, but that he thought it unmeet and unseemly to gainsay and
contrary the will and pleasure of the King, that so highly and
entirely favoured and loved him, and also an evil part to with
draw and deny his service to the whole Realm, that with gladful
and marvellous good mind toward him wished and desired that
he of all men might enjoy the said office; who between the Dukes
of Norfolk and Suffolk being brought through Westminster Hall
to his place in the Chancellery, the Duke of Norfolk, in open
audience of all the people there assembled, shewed that he was
from the King himself straightly l charged by special Commission,
there openly in the presence of them all, to make declaration how
much all England was beholding unto Sir Thomas More for his
good service, and how worthy he was to have the highest room in
the Realm, and how dearly His Grace loved and trusted him, for
which (said the Duke) he had great cause to rejoice. Whereunto
Sir Thomas More, among many other his humble and wise
sayings not now in my memory, answered that although he had
good cause to take comfort of His Highness s singular favour
towards him, that he had, far above his deserts, so highly com
mended him, to whom therefore he acknowledged himself most
deeply bounden; yet nevertheless he must for his own part needs
confess that in all things by His Grace alleged he had done no
more than was his duty, and further disallowed himself as unmeet
for that room, wherein, considering how wise and honourable a
Prelate had lately before taken so great a fall, he had, he said,
thereof no cause to rejoice. And as they had before, on the King s
behalf, charged him" uprightly to minister indifferent justice to the
people, without corruption or affection, so did he likewise charge
them again, that if they saw him at any time, in any thing, digress
from any part of his duty in that honourable office, even as they
would discharge their own duty and fidelity to God and the
King, so should they not fail to disclose it to His Grace, who
otherwise might have just occasion to lay his fault wholly to their
charge.

While he was Lord Chancellor, being at leisure, as seldom he
1 strictly.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 83

was, one of his sons-in-law on a time said merrily to him, * When
Cardinal Wolsey was Lord Chancellor, not only divers of his
privy chamber, but such also as were but his doorkeepers, got
great gain.* And since he had married one of his daughters, and
gave still attendance upon him, he thought he might of reason
look for something; where he indeed, because he was so ready
himself to hear every man, poor and rich, and kept no doors shut
from them, could find none, it was to him a great discourage.
And whereas else some for friendship, some for kindred, and
some for profit, would gladly have had his furtherance in bringing
them to his presence, if he should now take anything of them, he
knew, he said, he should do them great wrong, for that they might
do as much for themselves as he could do for them; which con
dition, though he thought it in Sir Thomas More very com
mendable, yet to huii, said he, being his son, he found it nothing
profitable.

When he had told this tale: You say well, son, quoth he.
*I do not mislike that you are of conscience so scrupulous; but
many other ways be there, son, that I may both do yourself good,
and pleasure your friend also; but sometime may I by my word
stand your friend in stead, and sometime may I by my letter help
him; or if he have a cause depending before me, at your request
I may hear him before another; or if his cause be not all the best,
yet may I move the parties to fall to some reasonable end of
arbitrament. Howbeit, this one thing, son, I assure you on my
faith, that if the parties will at hands call for justice, then, all
were it my father stood on the one side, and the devil on the
other, his cause being good, the devil should have right. So
offered he his son, as he thought, he said, as much favour as with
reason he could require.

And that he would for no respect digress from Justice, well
appeared by a plain example of another of his sons called Master
Heron: for when he, having a matter before him in the Chancery,
and presuming too much of his favour, would by him in no wise
be persuaded to agree to any indifferent order, then made he in
conclusion a fiat decree against him.

This Lord Chancellor used commonly every afternoon at his
house at Chelsea to sit in his open hall, to the intent that, if any
persons had any suit unto him, they might the more boldly
come to his presence, and thereupon bring their complaints
before him; whose manner was also to read every bill himself,

84 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

ere he would award any subpoena: which bearing matter
sufficient worthy of a subpoena, would he set his hands unto, or
else cancel it.

Sir John More

Whensoever he passed through Westminster Hall to his place
in the Chancery by the Court of the King s Bench, if his father
(one of the Judges thereof) had been sat ere he came, he would go
into the same Court, and there reverently kneeling down in the
sight of them all, duly ask his father s blessing. And if it fortuned
that his father and he at readings in Lincoln s Inn met together,
as they sometime did, notwithstanding his high office, he would
offer in argument the pre-eminence to his father, though he, for
his office s sake, would refuse to take it. And for better declaration
of his natural affection toward his father, he not only while he
lay on his death-bed, according to his duty, often times with
comfortable words most kindly came to visit him, but also at his
departure out of this world, with tears taking him about the neck,
most lovingly kissed and embraced him, commending him into
the merciful hands of Almighty God, and so departed from him.

And so few injunctions 1 as he granted while he was Lord
Chancellor, yet were they by some Judges of the law misliked;
which Master William Roper understanding, declared the same
unto Sir Thomas More, who answered him that they should have
little cause to find fault with him therefore; and thereupon caused
he one Master Crooke, chief of the six clerks, to make a docket
containing the whole number and causes of all such injunctions
as either in his time had already passed, or at that present
depended in any of the King s Courts at Westminster. Which
done, he invited all the Judges to dine with him in the Council
Chamber at Westminster; where after dinner, when he had
broken with them what complaints he had heard of his iiyunc-
tions, and moreover showed them both the number of causes of
every one of them, in order, so plainly that, upon full debating of
those matters, they were all enforced to confess that they, in like
case, could have done no otherwise themselves. Then offered he
this unto them : that if the Justices of every court (unto whom the
reformation of the rigour of the law, by reason of their office,
most especially appertained) would, upon reasonable considera
tions, by their own discretions (as they were, as he thought, in
1 Writ preventing a wrongful act

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 85

conscience bounden) mitigate and reform the rigour of the laws
themselves, there should from henceforth by him no more
injunctions be granted. Whereunto, when they refused to con
descend, then said he unto them, * Forasmuch as yourselves, my
Lords, drive me to that necessity for awarding out injunctions to
relieve the people s injury, you cannot hereafter any more justly
blame me." After that he said secretly to Master William Roper,
* I perceive, son, why they like not so to do, for they see that they
may by the verdict of the jury cast off all quarrels from them
selves upon the jury, which they account their chief defence;
And therefore am I compelled to abide the adventure of all such
reports.

All the while he was Lord Chancellor, yea, and before also,
there was nothing in the world that more pleased or comforted
him than when he had done some good to other men; of whom
some he relieved with his money, some by his authority, some by
his good word and commendation, some with his good counsel.
Neither was there ever any man (worthy to be relieved) that
sought relief and help at his hand, that went not from him merry
and cheerful. For he was (as a man may say) the public patron
of all the poor, and thought that he did procure to himself a great
benefit and treasure as often as he could by his counsel deliver
and rid any man in any perplexity and difficult cause, as often as he
could pacify and reconcile any that were at variance and debate.

The King once more consults him on the Marriage

Now a little to speak again of the King s great affairs then in
hand. The King, shortly upon his entry into the office of the
Chancellorship, moved eftsoons 1 Sir Thomas More to weigh and
consider his great matter; who, falling down upon his knees,
humbly besought His Highness to stand his gracious Sovereign,
as he ever since his entry first into His Grace s service had found
him, saying there was nothing in the world had been so grievous
unto his heart as to remember that he was not able, as he willingly
would with the loss of his limbs, for that matter anything to find
whereby he could with his conscience safely serve His Grace s
contentation; 2 as he that always bare in mind the most godly
words that His Highness spake unto him at his first coming into
his noble service, the most virtuous lesson that ever Prince taught
his servant, willing him first to look unto God, and after God
1 forthwith. * satisfaction.

86 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

unto him, as, in good faith, he said he did, or else might His
Grace well account him his most unworthy servant. To this the
King answered, that if he could not therein with his conscience
serve him, he was content to accept his service otherwise; and
using the advice of other of his learned Council, whose con
sciences could well enough agree therewith, would nevertheless
continue his gracious favour towards him, and never with that
matter molest his conscience after.

But Sir Thomas More, in process of time, seeing the King fully
determined to proceed forth in the marriage of Queen Anne,
when he with Bishops and nobles of the higher House of the
Parliament were, for the furtherance of that marriage, com
manded by the King to go down to the Common House, to show
unto them both what the Universities, as well of other parts
beyond the seas as of Oxford and Cambridge, had done in that
behalf, and their seals also testifying the same; all which matters,
at the King s request, not showing of what mind himself was
therein, he opened to the Lower House of Parliament; neverthe
less, doubting lest further attempts should after follow, which,
contrary to his conscience, by reason of his office, he was likely
to be put unto, he made suit to the Duke of Norfolk, his singular
dear friend, to be a means to the King that he might with His
Grace s favour, be discharged of that chargeable room of the
Chancellorship, wherein, for certain infirmities of his body, he
pretended himself unable any longer to serve.

At the commencement of which Parliament, Sir Thomas More,
standing at the right hand of the King, behind the bar, made an
eloquent oration. The effect whereof was that the office of a
shepherd did most lively resemble the office and government of a
King, whose riches if you respect, he is but a rich man; if he is
honourable, he is but honourable; and so forth; but the office of
a shepherd, as he well and wittily declared, accommodating the
prosecution thereof to his purpose and the summoning of the
present Parliament, comprised in a manner all or the chief and
principal function of a King.

Now, whereas I declared that Sir Thomas More, upon con
sideration and deep foresight of things hanging upon the Realm
and imminent, was desirous to be exonerated and discharged of
that office, pretending infirmities, truth it is that this was no bare
and naked pretence, but that it was so with him indeed; for he
was troubled with a disease in his breast, which continuing with

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 87

him many months, after he consulted with the physicians, who
made him answer that long diseases were dangerous, adding
further that his disease could not shortly be helped, but by a little
and little, with continuance of long time, by rest, good diet and
physic, and yet could they not appoint any certain time when he
should recover, or be quite rid and cured. This thing Sir Thomas
More well weighing with himself, and that either he must forgo
the office, or forslow some part of his requisite and dutiful
diligence, seeing himself not able to wield and dispatch the mani
fold and weighty affairs of that office, and that with long con
tinuance in the office he was like to be bereaved of the office and
his life withal, determined with himself rather to forgo the one
than both.

Resignation

And yet his adversaries and evil willers did spread and cast
rumours abroad to make him the more odious, that with the
King s displeasure he was against his will thrust out of the
Chancellorship. And news thereof came with marvellous speed
into far countries, and that his successor had dismissed out of
prison such as he had imprisoned for religion. But a world it is
to see the wonderful malice of these men, who knew, or might
have soon learned, that at the very same time that his successor,
the Lord Audley, was first placed in Westminster, the Duke of
Norfolk, High Treasurer of England, did openly, by the King s
special commandment, declare that Sir Thomas More with much
ado, and after his earnest suit and supplication, was hardly
suffered to dismiss the said office. And surely as the King, in
preferring him to that room, tendered the commonwealth in
ch oosing Sir Thomas More as the meete^t man for it (as he was
in very deed) so dismissed him upon his earnest suit, tendering
Sir Thomas More s health.

Now the very same that the Duke declared, the said Lord
Audley, his successor, in the King s own presence and by his
commandment, did declare and notify in his oration made the
Parliament following.

Yes, the very same (to repress malicious talk and rumours) Sir
Thomas More himself declared, with the summary and effectual
discourse of his life, in a certain Epitaph, which he caused to be
put upon his sepulchre, that he had provided for himself and his
wives at Chelsea. His adversaries mouths being at length stopped

88 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

with so manifest and manifold apparent matter to the contrary,
left that prattling and talking and began, causeless, to prattle and
talk against his said Epitaph as very vainglorious. Against whose
false slanderous calumnies, the open tried truth of all his virtuous
innocent life doth defend itself, and I doubt not God s own
judgment agreeable thereto, as it did long before the blessed
patient man Job, whom his friends that came in his woeful
distress to visit him, did much after like manner charge him as
these enemies charged Sir Thomas More. For surely he was a
man of so excellent and singular gifts and qualities (into the breast
of which kind of men some spice of vainglory often times
creepeth) so far from it as lightly a man might be. And in very
truth, in the inditing of this his Epitaph, he had not so much
regard unto himself, or his own estimation, as to God s cause
and religion, which he had by open books against the Protestants
defended, lest it might (if such rumours blown and sown abroad
by them were taken for truth, that for his fault, or upon dis
pleasure, he was displaced) somewhat be impaired or hindered.
Wherefore true it is, for all their babbling, that as he entered into
the office with the King s high and singular favour, with the great
good will of the nobility, and wonderful rejoicing of the whole
people, and used the office to the contentation of the King and
all sort of good people, and the profit of the whole common
wealth, so it is true also that he was most favourably and honour
ably dismissed, after long suit, from the said office. At the which
time the King said to him that in any suit that he should after
ward have to His Grace, that either should concern the said Sir
Thomas More s honour (for that word it liked His Highness to
use to him) or that should appertain to his profit, he should find
His Highness a good and gracious Lord to him.

His Private Life

True it is also, that notwithstanding the like calumniations
and false slanders of his adversaries, he lived and died also after
ward (though these men defame him with a new found kind of
treason) most innocently and most honourably. The full declara
tion of which his life and death doth now remain to be by us
opened and declared.

But inasmuch as we have many other things touching this man
worthy to be remembered, we will interlace * them before. And

1 insert

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 89

as we have hitherto prosecuted his public doings in the common
affairs of the Realm, himself being the highest magistrate, after
the King, in the same, and will hereafter also in convenient place
declare what account he rendered to the Prince and magistrates,
being afterwards a private man, of his public doings, so will we
now in the meanwhile recount unto you, first, his private, secret
and domestical life and trade x with his wife, children, family and
others. And then, because the world well knew him, and so took
him, and the testimony of learned men and his own books withal
bare good and substantial record thereof, for a great excellent
learned man, we will not altogether pretermit 2 his said books,
but speak so much as shall seem to serve the turn.

First then will we lay before you a description and declaration
of some part of his said private life and doings. In whom this is
principally to be considered, as the root and head of all his well
doings, that always he had a special and singular regard and
respect to Godward, and to keep his conscience whole, sincere
and upright. And this among other was one of his good, virtuous
and godly properties, conditions and customs, that when he
entered into any matter or office of importance, as when he was
chosen one of the King s Privy Council, when he was sent
Ambassador, appointed Speaker of the Parliament, made Lord
Chancellor or when he took any other weighty matter or affair
upon him, he would go to the Church and be confessed, he would
hear Mass and be howsled. 3

He used, yea, being Lord Chancellor, to sit and sing hi the
choir with a surplice on his back. And when that the Duke of
Norfolk, coming at a time to Chelsea to dine with him, fortuned
to find him in his attire and trade, going homeward after service,
arm in arm with him, said after this fashion, God body, God
body, my Lord Chancellor, a parish clerk, a parish clerk! You
dishonour the king and his office ; Nay/ quoth Sir Thomas
More, smiling upon the Duke, your Grace may not think that
the King, your master and mine, will with me, for serving God
his master, be offended, or there account his office dishonoured.
Wherein Sir Thomas More did very godly and devoutly, and
spake very truly and wisely. What would the Duke have said, if
he had seen that mighty and noble Emperor, Charles the Great,
playing the very same part; or King David, long before, hopping
and dancing naked before the ark?

1 manner of life. 2 omit 3 receive the Sacrament,

90 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

He was sometime for godly purposes desirous to be solitary,
and to sequester himself from worldly company. And therefore
the better to satisfy and accomplish this his godly desire, he
builded, a good distance from his mansion house at Chelsea, a
place called the New Building, wherein there was a chapel,
a library and a gallery. In which, as his use was upon other
days to occupy himself in prayer and study together, so
on the Friday there usually continued he from morning till
evening, spending his time only in devout prayers and spiritual
exercises.

As to the poor for God s sake he was good and pitiful, so used
he another rare and singular kind of alms of his own body, as to
punish the same with whips, the cords knotted. And albeit by
reason he would not be noted for singularity, he conformed
himself outwardly to other men in his apparel, according to his
state and vocation, yet how little he inwardly esteemed such
vanities, it well appeared by the shirt of hah* that he wore secretly
next his body; whereof no person was privy but his daughter only,
Mistress Margaret Roper, whom for her secrecy he above all
other trusted, causing her, as need required, to wash the same
shirt of hair; saving that it chanced once that as he sat at supper
in the summer, singly in his doublet and hose, wearing upon the
said secret shirt of hair a plain linen shirt without ruif or collar,
that a young gentlewoman, Mistress More, sister to the said
Margaret, chancing to espy the same, began to laugh at it. His
daughter Margaret, not ignorant of his manner, perceiving the
same, privily told him of it. And he, being sorry that she saw it,
presently amended it.

As he was not ambitious and greedy of honour and worldly
preferment, and one that in twenty years service to the King
never craved of him anything for himself, and as he, after that he
was by his well deserving and by the King s free and mere good
ness advanced and promoted, did not look up on high, and
solemnly set by himself with the contempt and disdain of other,
so was he nothing grieved, but rather glad (for, as I have showed,
he did procure it) when he was rid of the Chancellorship. And
whereas upon the holy-days, during his high office, one of his
gentlemen, when service at the church was done, ordinarily used
to come to my Lady his wife s pew, and say unto her, Madame,
my Lord is gone, the next holy-day after the surrender of his
office and departure of his gentleman, he came unto my Lady his

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 91

wife s pew himself, and making a low curtsy, said unto her
* Madame, my Lord is gone.

As prosperity did nothing lift him up with haughtiness and
pride, so no mischance or trouble that very heavily fell upon him
afterwards, could infringe or break his great patience and con
stancy, as we shall declare hereafter more at large. A little before
he was made Lord Chancellor, it chanced his barns and all his
corn at Chelsea by retchless l negligence, to be burnt and con
sumed with fire, with some of his neighbours houses; whereof he
being at Court and understanding, wrote to his wife a comfortable
letter, willing her, their children and all their family to repair to
the church and give God thanks, who might take away the
residue they had besides. And willed diligent search and inquiry
to be made what damage his poor neighbours had taken thereby,
which, he said, should be recompensed and restored (as it was)
to the uttermost farthing.

Heresies

And as in all other things he had a grounded and profound
judgment, so had he a deep foresight (when few thought little of
it) and, as it proved, a sure aim 2 of the lamentable world that
followed, and that we have since full heavily felt. And long before
took it so in his heart, and such compassion of it, that he gladly
would have with his own present destruction repulsed and
redeemed the imminent mischances.

It fortuned he walked on a time with Master William Roper,
his son-in-law, along the Thames side at Chelsea, and in talking
of other things, he said unto him:

Now would to our Lord, son Roper, upon condition that
three things were established in Christendom, I were put in a
sack, and here presently cast into the Thames.*

What great tilings be those, Sir, quoth Master William Roper,
*that should move you so to wish?

Wouldst thou know what they be, son Roper? quoth he.

Yea, marry, with good will, Sir, if it please you, quoth Master
William Roper.

In faith, son, they be these, said he. The first is, that where

the most part of Christian Princes be at mortal war, they were all

at an universal peace. The second, that where the Church of

Christ is at this present sore afflicted with many errors and

1 reckless. a guess,

$2 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

heresies, it were settled in a perfect uniformity of religion. The
third, that where the King s matter of his marriage is now come in
question, that it were to the glory of God and quietness of all
parties brought to a good conclusion. Whereby, as it was to be
gathered, he judged that otherwise it would be a disturbance to a
great part of Christendom.

It fortuned also at another time, before the matrimony was
brought in question, when Master William Roper, in talk with
Sir Thomas More, of a certain joy commended unto him the
happy state of this Realm, that had so Catholic a Prince that no
heretic durst show his face, so virtuous and learned a clergy, so
grave and sound a nobility, and so loving obedient subjects all in
one faith agreeing together.

Troth it is, indeed, son Roper, quoth he, and in commending
all degrees and states of the same, went far beyond Master
William Roper. * And yet, son Roper, I pray God*, said he, that
some of us, as high as we seem to sit upon the mountains, treading
heretics under our feet like ants, live not the day that we gladly
would wish to be at a league and composition with them, to let
them have their churches quietly to themselves, so that they would
be content to let us have ours quietly to ourselves.*

And when Master William Roper had told him many con
siderations why he had no cause so to say, Well, said he, * I pray
God, son, some of us live not to that day, shewing no reason why
he should put any doubt therein.

To whom the said Master Roper said, Sir, it is very desperately
spoken. For that word used Master Roper, for the which after
ward, as he hath told his friends, he cried God mercy, calling it
a vile word.

Who, by these words perceiving Master Roper in a fume, safd
merrily to him, Well, well, son Roper, it shall not be so, it shall
not be so.

Again, when Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, had deter
mined the matter touching the King s marriage (to whom a
Commission was from the King to that intent directed) even
according to the King s own mind, and that thereupon the King
had sequestered himself from the Church of Rome, pretending
that he had no justice at the Pope s hands, Sir Thomas More said
to his son-in-law, Master William Roper, God give grace, son,
that these matters be not within a while confirmed with oaths.
At the which time the said Master William, seeing little likelihood

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 93

thereof, and yet fearing lest for his fore-speaking it would the
sooner come to pass, waxed therefore for this his so saying much
offended with him.

And whereas in a book entitled The Supplication of Beggars the
author, under an holy, fond, pretenced colour of helping the poor
and impotent, craftily goeth about to oppress and cast out the
Clergy, bearing men in hand that then, after that the Gospel
should be preached, beggars and bawds should decrease, idle
folks and thieves be the fewer, and the Realm increase in riches,
and so forth; Sir Thomas More sheweth, and truly, as it were an
ocean sea of many and great mischievous events that would (as
have indeed) thereof redound and overwhelm the Realm.

Then , saith he, * shall Luther s Gospel come in, then shall
Tyndale s Testament be taken up, then shall false heresies be
preached, then shall the Sacraments be set at naught, then shall
fasting and prayer be neglected, then shall holy saints be blas
phemed, then shall Almighty God be displeased, then shall He
withdraw His grace and let all run to ruin, then shall all virtue
be had in derision, then shall all vice reign and run forth un
bridled, then shall youth leave labour and all occupation, then
shall folk wax idle and fall to unthriftiness, then shall whores and
thieves, beggars and bawds increase, then shall unthrifts flock
together and swarm about, and each bear him bold of other, then
shall all laws be laughed to scorn, then shall the servants set
nought by their masters, and unruly people rebel against their
rulers. Then will rise up rifling and robbery, murder and mischief
and plain insurrection, whereof what would be the end, or when
you should see it, only God knoweth.

And that Luther s new Gospel hath taken such effect, not only
in Allemagne, 1 but in other countries also, in Flanders and France,
and even nearer home, the woeful experience doth certainly and
feelingly, to the great grief of all the good, testimony to the world.

But that I shall now declare, me thinketh may rather hang
upon some private and secret revelation and divine information
than any worldly and wise conjecture or foresight; by what means
soever he thought it, or for what cause soever he spake it, truth
it is, that at a certain time when his daughter Margaret resorted
to him in the Tower, after that he had first questioned with her
awhile of the order of his wife, children and state of his house in
his absence, he asked her how Queen Anne did.

1 Germany.

94 LIVES OF ST THOMA$ MORE

In faith, father, quoth she, never better/

Never better, Meg! quoth he. Alas! Meg, it pitieth me to
remember into what misery, poor soul, she shall shortly come.*

Into what misery she within a while after fell, and ere that year
turned over wherein Sir Thomas More died, all England did well
know, and was not a little astonished at so strange a sight and
event, which neither Sir Thomas nor any man else by his mere
naturals l foresee or foretell.

He was also of so mild, gentle and patient nature, that of all
such as falsely slandered him, and wretchedly railed against him,
albeit he knew them, and might easily for that have punished
them, or otherwise wait them a shrew turn, he would never
revenge himself. On a time when he was Lord Chancellor of
England, the Water-bailiff of London, sometime his servant,
hearing where he had been at dinner certain merchants liberally
rail against his old master, waxed so discontented therewith that
he hastily came to him and told him what he had heard. And
were I, Sir, quoth he, in such favour and authority with my
Prince as you are, such men surely would not be suffered so
villainously and falsely to misreport and slander me. Wherefore
I would wish you to call them before you, and, to their shame,
for their lewd malice to punish them.

Who, smiling upon him, said, Why, Master Water-bailiff,
would you have me punish those by whom I receive more benefit
than by all you that be my friends? Let them a God s name speak
as lewdly as they list of me, and shoot never so many arrows at
me, as long as they do not hit me, what am I the worse? But if
they should once hit me, then would it indeed not a little trouble
me. I have more cause, I assure thee, Master Water-bailiff, to pity
them than to be angry with them.

Neither would he sinisterly or suspiciously take any thing
written, spoken or done by his friends, perverting, contorting and
wringing it to the worst (as many do) but rather make the best
of all things.

His Family

And let us now a little consider his demeanour and trade with
and towards his said friends, his wife, his children and family, and
otherwise also. As he was not very curious in choosing and pick
ing out his friends, and easy to be entreated to enter friendship
1 natural gifts or powers of mind.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 95

with such as desired it, so when he was once entered in friendship
with any man, to keep, nourish and maintain the same he was very
vigilant and careful. And in his own business and affairs as he
was somewhat negligent, so in following and dispatching his
friends* matters and affairs there was no man more painful and
diligent.

In conversation with his said friends he was not very scrupulous
and ceremonious, though he never omitted that that common
honesty and civility required. But he was therein so sweet and
pleasant that there was no man so dull and heavy disposition that
he did not with his company quicken, refresh and exhilarate. For
he had a special notable gift of eloquence, merry and pleasant
talk, and yet without any gall or bitterness, hurt or slander, in his
jesting with any man. This grace is called in Greek *Aimulia ,
whereof that noble Roman, Paulus Aemilius, was so called, and
surely Master More is, if ever there were any, our English, though
not Paulus, yet Thomas Aemilius.

When he was at home, as his custom was daily, beside his
private prayers, with his children to say the Seven Psalms, 1 Litany
and Suffrages following, so was his guise nightly, before he went
to bed, with his wife, children and household to go to his chapel,
and there upon his knees ordinarly to say certain Psalms and
Collects with them.

And to provoke his wife and children to the desire of heavenly
things, he would sometime use these words following unto them,
*It is now no mastery 2 for you children to go to heaven, for
everybody giveth you good counsel, everybody giveth you good
example; you see virtue rewarded and vice punished, so that you
are carried up to heaven even by the chins. But if you shall live
the time when no man will give you good counsel, nor no man
will give you good example, when you shall see virtue punished
and vice rewarded, if you will then stand fast and firmly stick to
God, upon pain of my life, though you be but half good, God will
allow you for whole good.

If his wife or any of his children had been diseased or troubled,
he would say unto them, *We may not look at our pleasures to
go to heaven in feather-beds. It is not the way; for our Lord
himself went thither with great pain and by many tribulations,
which was the path wherein he walked thither, leaving us example

1 Penitential Psalms (Vulgate: 6, 31, 37, 50, 101, 129, 142).
8 achievement

96 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

to follow him; for the servant may not look to be in better case
than his master.

And as he would in this sort persuade them to take their
troubles patiently, so would he in like sort teach them to with
stand the devil and his temptations valiantly, saying, Whosoever
will mark the devil and his temptations, shall find him therein
much like to an ape; for like as an ape, not well looked unto, will
be busy and bold to do shrewd turns, and contrariwise, being spied,
will suddenly leap back and adventure no farther, so the devil,
finding a man idle, slothful and without resistance ready to
receive his temptations, waxeth so hardy that he will not fail still
to continue with him until to his purpose he hath thoroughly
brought him. But on the other side, if he see a man with diligence
persevere to prevent and withstand his temptations, he waxeth so
weary that in conclusion he utterly forsaketh him. For as the
devil of disposition is a spirit of so high a pride that he cannot
abide to be mocked, so is he of nature so envious that he feareth
any more to assault him, lest he should thereby not only catch
a foul fall himself, but also minister to the man more matter of
merit.*

This and such like was the virtuous talk and trade with his said
wife and children. In whom, among his other excellent gifts and
graces, this was one notable, that you should never see him in any
chafe or fretting with his said wife, children or family* Master
William Roper, his son, hath reported that in sixteen years and
more, being in his house, he could never perceive much as once
in any fume.

In the time somewhat before his trouble he would talk with his
wife and children of the joys of heaven and the pains of hell, of
the lives of holy martyrs, of their grievous martyrdoms, of their
marvellous patience, of their passions and deaths that they
suffered rather than they would offend God; and what an happy
and blessed thing it was for the love of God to suffer loss of
goods, imprisonment, loss of lands and life also. He would
farther say to them that, upon his faith, if he might perceive his
wife and children would encourage him to die in a good cause, it
should so comfort him that, for very joy thereof, it would make
him merrily run to death* He shewed to them before what trouble
might after fall him; wherewith and the like virtuous talk he had
so long before his trouble encouraged them, that when he after
fell into the trouble indeed, his trouble to them was a great deal

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 97

the less: quia spicula praevisa minus laedunt. 1 No marvel now, if
they having such a patient master and governor, his children and
family followed, as they did indeed, his good advertisements a
and virtuous behaviour.

We have before shewed how he trained up his son and three
daughters in virtue and learning and the knowledge of the Latin
and Greek tongues, in all which they did not (for their age) a
little profit ; which was to Sir Thomas More no small comfort and
no little increase of the love that otherwise (as a most natural
father) he bare to them. Of the which their great towardness and
profiting, not only Sir Thomas More plainly testifieth in his
epigrams, but the renowned clerk also, Erasmus Roterodamus,
who received from them sundry letters, written, as he saith, not
only in pure Latin, but full also of good substantial, witty matter,
which he certainly knew to have been of their own inditing,
though he could hardly persuade the same to other strangers.

Margaret Roper

But of all other Mistress Margaret Roper did prick nearest her
father, as well in wit, virtue and learning, as also in merry and
pleasant talk. She was to her servants a meek and gentle mistress,
to her brother and sisters a most loving, natural and aimable
sister, to her friends a very sure, steadfast and comfortable friend;
yea, which is a rare thing in a woman, accounted of them to be of
such gravity and prudent counsel that divers men of good calling
and experience would in their perplexed and difficult cases consult
and deliberate with her, and found, as they have reported, as grave
and as profitable counsel at her hands as they doubted to have
found the like at many of their hands that were for their wit,
virtue, learning and experience, men of whom there was made
very good account

To her children she was a double mother, as one not content
to bring them forth only into the world, but instructing them also
herself in virtue and learning. At what time her husband was
upon a certain displeasure taken against him in King Henry s
days sent to the Tower, certain sent from the King to search her
house, upon a sudden running upon her, found her not puling
and lamenting but full busily teaching her children, whom they,
finding nothing astonished at their message, and finding also,

1 Because troubles foreseen, hurt less.
* admonitions.

98 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

besides this her constancy, such gravity and wisdom in her talk as
they little looked for, were themselves much astonished, and
were in great admiration, neither could afterward speak too much
of her, as partly myself have heard at the mouth of one of them.

But above all other she was to her father, and to her husband,
such a daughter, such a wife, as I suppose it was hard to match
her in all England. And albeit this her daughterly behaviour and
reverence was in her notable all her life before, yet never so
notable as after her father s trouble, affliction and imprisonment;
all the which time, as well for her great pains and travail she took
to procure some relief and ease to her father, as for her wise and
godly talk with him, as also for such letters as she sent him, and
for divers other considerations, it appeareth she was the chiefest
and almost the only worldly comfort Sir Thomas More had. To
whom he wrote in that time divers letters, and among other one
answering a letter of hers, in which he merrily writeth that to
declare what pleasure and comfort he took of her said letters, a
peck of coals would not suffice to make him pennies, meaning
that he had none other pennies at that time, as he had not indeed.

Now on the other side, she was so good, so debonair and so
gentle a wife, that her husband thought himself a most happy man
that ever he happened upon such a treasure a treasure, I may
well say, for such a wife incomparably exceedeth (as Solomon
saith) all worldly treasure. Who was on his part again to her so
good, so sweet, so sober, so modest, so loving an husband that,
as Erasmus long ago wrote, if he had not been her husband, he
might seem to have been her own brother. Surely, the said Master
Roper had her in such estimation, or rather admiration, that he
thought, and hath also said, that she was more worthy for her
excellent qualities to have been a Prince s wife.

And the said Erasmus, for her exquisite learning, wisdom and
virtue, made such an account of her, that he called her the flower
of all the learned matrons in England. To whom, being as yet
very young, but yet adorned with a child, he dedicated his Com
mentaries made upon certain hymns of Prudentius, And to say
the truth, she was our Sappho, our Aspasia, our Hypathia, our
Damo, our Cornelia. But what speak I of these, though learned, ,
yet infidels? Nay, rather, she was our Christian Fabiola, our
Marcella, our Paula, our Eustochium.

We will now, Reader, give thee a little taste of her learning and
of her ready, pregnant wit. St Cyprian s works had been in those

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 99

days many times printed, and yet after so oft printing there
remained among other defects and faults, one notable among all
these prints uncorrected and unreformed. The words are these:
Absit enim ab Ecclesia Romano vigorem suum tarn prophana
facilitate dimittere, et nisi vos severitatis eversa fidei maiestate,
dissolvere. Which place when Mistress Margaret had read,
without any help of other sample, or any instruction: These
words nisi vos should be, quoth she, *T trow (wherein she said
a very truth) nervos.* l

This gentlewoman chanced among other to fall sick in the time
of the great sweat; whose recovery being desperated 2 of her
father, of the physicians and all others, God seemed to shew to
Sir Thomas More a manifest, and, as it were, a miraculous token
of his special favour. She being then in so great extremity of that
disease as by no inventions or devices that physicians in such case
commonly use (of whom he had divers, both expert and wise and
well learned, then continually attendant upon her) could be kept
from sleep, so that both physicians and all other there despaired
of her recovery and gave her over; her father, as he that most
entirely tendered her, being in no small heaviness for her, by
prayer at God s hand sought to get her remedy. Whereupon going
up after his usual manner into his aforesaid new building, there in
his chapel, upon his knees, with tears most devoutly besought
Almighty God that it would like His goodness, unto whom
nothing was impossible, if it were His blessed will, at his mediation
to vouchsafe graciously to hear his humble petition, where came
incontinent into his mind that a clyster 3 should be the only
remedy to help her. Which, when he told the physicians, they by
and by confessed that if there were any hope of health, that was
the very best help indeed, much marvelling of themselves that
they had not before remembered it. Then was it immediately
administered unto her sleeping, which she could by no means
have been brought unto waking. And albeit after that she was
thereby thoroughly awakened, God s marks 4 (an evident
undoubted token of death) plainly appeared upon her, yet she
contrary to all their expectations, was, as it was thought, by her
father s fervent prayer miraculously recovered, and at length

1 Far be it from the Roman Church to relax its vigour or to weaken the
bonds of severity in a manner so unbefitting to dignity of the faith.
8 despaired.
8 enema,
4 signs of death.

IOO LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

again to perfect health restored. Whom if it had pleased God at
that time to have taken to his mercy, her father said that he would
never have meddled with worldly matters after, as we have before
touched.

By this gentlewoman Master William Roper hath yet living
two young gentlemen, his sons, being brought up and learned in
the liberal sciences and the laws of the Realm, and one daughter,
late wife to Master Clarke, and now wife to Master Bassett, one
of our gracious sovereign Queen Mary s Privy Chamber, who in
the late King Edward s days, because he would the better pre
serve himself not to be entangled with the schism, withdrew
himself into Flanders. This Mistress Bassett is very well exported
in the Latin and Greek tongues; she hath very handsomely and
learnedly translated out of the Greek into the English all the
ecclesiastical story of Eusebius, with Socrates, Theodoretus,
Sozomenus and Euagrius, albeit of modesty she suppresseth it,
and keepeth it from the print. She hath also very aptly and fitly
translated into the said tongue a certain book that Sir Thomas,
her grandfather, made upon the Passion, and so elegantly and
eloquently penned that a man would think it were originally
written in the said English tongue.

William Roper s Heresy

Here now have I occasion somewhat to interlace of the said
Master William Roper, but it would require a proper and peculiar
narrative to discourse this man condignly 1 as his worthiness
requireth, but we will, cutting off all other things, speak of a
point or two only. The said Master William Roper, at what time
he married with Mistress Margaret More, was a marvellous
zealous Protestant, and so fervent, and withal so well and
properly liked of himself and his divine learning, that he took the
bridle into the teeth, and ran forth like a headstrong horse, hard
to be plucked back again.

Neither was he content to whisper it in hugger-mugger, 2 but
thirsted very sore to publish his new doctrine and divulge it, and
thought himself very able so to do, and it were even at Paul s
Cross; yea, for the burning zeal he bare to the furtherance and
advancement of Luther s new broached religion, and for the
pretty liking he had of himself, he longed so sore to be pulpited,
that to have satisfied his mad affection and desire, he could have
1 adequately. * concealment.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD TOI

been content to have foregone a good portion of his lands. At
which time there were some others of that sect detected for
maintaining of heresies, that catched such an itch of preaching
that, though their heresies lay festering still in the bottom of their
hearts, at what time with their lips they professed the contrary,
yet, as it is well known and themselves confessed, upon hope of
preaching again they were content openly to abjure.

This fall into heresy of the same Master Roper, as he can
conjecture, first did grow of a scruple of his own conscience, for
lack of grace and better knowledge, as some do upon other
occasions. He daily did use immoderate fasting and many prayers,
which with good discretion well used had not been to be mis-
liked, but using them without order and good consideration,
thinking God therewith never to be pleased, did weary himself
even usque ad taedium. Then did he understand of Luther s works
brought into the Realm, and as Eve of a curious mind desirous
to know both good and evil, so did he, for the strangeness and
delectation of that doctrine, fall into great desire to read his
works: who, amongst other of his books, had read a book of
Luther s De Libertate Christiana, and another De Captivitate
Babylonica, and was with them in affection so bewitched that he
then did believe every matter set forth by Luther to be true. And
was with these books, by ignorance, pride and false allegations,
sophistical reasons and arguments, and with his own corrupt
affections deceived, and fully persuaded that faith only did
justify, that the works of man did nothing profit, and that, if
man could once believe that our Saviour Christ shed his precious
blood and died on the cross for our sins, the same only belief
should be sufficient for our salvation. Then thought he that all
the ceremonies and sacraments in Christ s Church were very vain,
and was at length so far waded into heresy and puffed up with pride
that he wished he might be suffered publicly to preach, thinking,
as we have said, that he should be better able to edify and profit
the people than the best preacher that came to Paul s Cross, and
that he in that doctrine was able to convince the best doctor in
the Realm, and so much the rather for that he had in open
presence (before the world was well acquainted with that doctrine)
defaced some that were named Doctors of Divinity, and thought
there could be no truth but that which was come forth then out
of Germany.

Who, for his open talk and companying with divers of his own

102 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

sect, of the Steelyard and other merchants, was with them before
Cardinal Wolsey convented 1 of heresy, which merchants for their
opinions were openly for heresy at Paul s Cross abjured; yet he,
for love borne by the Cardinal to Sir Thomas More, his father-
in-law, was with a friendly warning discharged. And, albeit he
had married the eldest daughter of Sir Thomas More whom then
of all the world he did, during that time, most abhor, though he
was a man of most mildness and notable patience.

Now these easy, short, pleasant and licentious lessons did cast
him into so sweet a sleep as he was after loath to wake from it.
And those lessons he did so well like as he soon after gave over
his fasting, praying, his primer and all his other prayers, and got
him to a Lutheran Bible, wherein upon the holy-days, instead of
his prayers, he spent his whole time, thinking it for him sufficient
to get only thereby knowledge to be able among ignorant persons
to babble and talk, as he thought, like a great doctor.

And so after continued he in his heresies, until upon a time Sir
Thomas More privately talked in his garden with his daughter
Margaret, and amongst other his sayings said:

Meg, I have borne a long time with thy husband; I have
reasoned and argued with him in those points of religion, and still
given to him my poor fatherly counsel, but I perceive none of all
this able to call him home, and therefore, Meg, I will no longer
argue and dispute with him, but will clean give him over, and get
me another while to God and pray for him.

And soon after, as he verily believed, through the great mercy
of God, at the devout prayer of Sir Thomas More, he perceived
his own ignorance, oversight, malice and folly, and turned him
again to the Catholic faith, wherein, God be thanked, he hath
hitherto continued. And thus was he induced into these wretched
heresies, and now perceiveth what deceived him and many more,
who for the most part through ignorance do begin to walk in
this way of heresy, and after in that wicked way do stand, and
finally through malice do desperately fast sit in the chair of all
iniquity.

And in this notable reclaiming and recovering of this gentle
man, God, methinketh, at the hearty and devote prayers of Sir
Thomas More, hath shewed his great tender mercy, as he did
long ago upon the great, learned, virtuous clerk St Austen, 2
who, after he had continued nine years a detestable Manichee,
1 summoned. 2 St Augustine.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD IO3

and being trained and ripened in their sect that there was no like
pleasure to him in the world as to match in reasoning with some
Catholic whom he, as himself thought, was able and did wonder
fully confound was at length, by the fervent devout prayers and
tears of his good mother Monica, reduced to the true Catholic
faith.

The said Master Roper, being thus by the great mercy of God
reclaimed from his errors and heresies (a goodly fair precedent
for many other of our time, being of much less wit, virtue and
learning, to reform themselves and to conform themselves to the
Catholic faith of their mother, the Holy Church) hath been ever
since by the goodness of God so steadfastly and so firmly rooted
and fixed in the Catholic faith, and all his children also, that a
man may well say: Haec mutatio dextrae excelsL And he hath
been since the singular helper and patron of all Catholics, to
relieve and aid them in their distress, especially such as either
were imprisoned or otherwise troubled for the Catholic faith.
For which cause in the latter time of King Henry the Eighth, for
relieving by his alms a notable learned man, Master Beckenshaw,
he suffered great trouble and imprisonment in the Tower. But his
great alms do not stand within this list only, but it reacheth far
further, and so far that it reacheth to all kind of poor and needy
persons, that, as I trow, in this kind no man of his degree of
calling in all England is comparable to him. So that a man may,
not without cause, accommodate that place of Holy Scripture to
him: Cor viduae consolatus est, oculus fuit caeco, et pes daudo,
and to conclude, pater erat pauperum. 1 For the which his great
alms sown upon the poor so liberally, I doubt nothing but in the
heavenly harvest he shall plentifully reap mercy and grace and the
inestimable reward of eternal bliss.

Margaret Giggs (Clement)

Let us now see of some other that were of the family of this
worthy man Sir Thomas More. Among other Doctor Clement,
also his wife (a woman furnished with much virtue and wisdom,
and with the knowledge of the Latin and Greek tongues, yea, and
physic too, above many that seem good and cunning physicians)
were brought up in his house. The said Clement was taken by Sir
Thomas More from Paul s school in London, and hath since

1 Job xxix. 13, 15, 16: The heart of the widow was comforted . . . v eye to
the blind, foot to the lame, he was the father of the poor.

104 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

proved a very excellent good physician, and is singularly seen in
the Greek tongue. And yet his virtue surmounteth his learning,
and hath answered to the expectation of Sir Thomas More, who
writeth thus of him, being yet a child, to Erasmus: Uxor mea
te salutat, et item Clemens, qui literis et latinis etgraecis itaproficit
indies, ut non exiguam de eo spem concipiam, futurum eum ali-
quando et patriae et literis ornamented

Now to what excellence she grew in knowledge, and especially
of physic, in her ripe and later years is easy to be known by that
I shall now tell you. It fortuned that Sir Thomas More, about a
fifteen or sixteen years before his death, fell into a tertian ague,
and had passed three or four fits. But afterward fell there on him
one fit out of course, so strange and marvellous that a man would
have thought it impossible, for suddenly he felt himself both hot
and cold throughout all his body, not in some part the one, and
in some part the other, for that had been, ye wot 2 well, no very
strange thing, to feel the head hot while the hands were cold, but
the very selfsame parts he sensibly felt, and right painfully too,
all in one instant both hot and cold at once. Upon this so sudden
and rare a chance, he asked a physician or twain that then looked
unto him, how this should be possible, and they twain told him
that it could not be so, but that he was fallen into some slumber,
and dreamed that he felt it so. Then Mistress Clement, being at
that time a young girl, whom a kinsman of hers had begun to
teach physic, told Sir Thomas More that there was such a kind
of fever indeed, and forthwith showed a work of Galen, De
differ entiis febrium, where Galen affirmeth the same.

This godly couple hath, and doth yet continue full blessedly
together. Besides all other excellent qualities, this couple is
notable for their constancy in the Catholic faith; for the which
they voluntarily and willingly relinquished their country, and
banished themselves in the late reign of King Edward the Sixth.

There was also in his house a learned and virtuous man called
John Harris, that godly and diligently instructed his youth.
Surely, if a man had seen and fully known the order, demeanour
and trade 3 of his children, and of this young Clement, and the
aforesaid maid that was after his wife, and of his other family, he

1 My wife greets you and also Clement, who makes such daily progress in
Latin and Greek that I entertain no small hope that he will be an ornament
to his country and to letters.

2 know.

8 manner of life.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD IO5

would have taken great spiritual and ghostly x pleasure thereof,
and would have thought himself to have been in Plato s Academy
nay, what say I, Plato s? Not in Plato s, but in some Christian
well ordered academy and university rather than in any lay
man s house. Everybody there so beset himself and his time
upon such good and fruitful reading and other virtuous exercises.
There should you hear of no strife or debate, of no wanton and
unseemly talk, which, with divers other enormities, were cut
away, because idleness, the very pestiferous poisoned bane of
youth, was quite excluded, and every person well and virtuously
set awork.

His first wife he married a young maid, which was very virtuous
and very pliable to all his will and pleasure. By her had the afore
said three daughters and Master John More. And the said wife
died very young. The said gentlewoman, though she were very
young and rude, 2 as one brought up only in the country under her
parents, he was the better content to marry that he might the
sooner frame her to his own will, appetite and disposition, as he
did indeed; whom he caused to be instructed in learning and all
kind of music, and had now so fashioned her according to his
own mind, that he had, and should ever after have had, a most
delectable, sweet, pleasant life with her, if God had sent her
longer life.

The said three daughters, with their husbands, and his son and
heir, with eleven nephews and nieces of his aforesaid children,
continued in house with him until such time as he was sent to the
Tower.

Lady Alice More

After the death of his first wife, he married a widow, which
continued with him till he suffered; whom he full entirely loved
and most lovingly used, though he had by her no children, and
though she were aged, blunt and rude. And in this he showed his
great wisdom, or rather piety and godliness: wisdom in taking
that for the best that otherwise could not be helped; his piety
and godliness in cherishing her no less lovingly and tenderly than
if she had been his first young wife, blessed and adorned with
happy and divers issue of her body; whom in very deed he rather
married for the ruling and governing of his children, house and
family, than for any bodily pleasure. And yet, such as she was,
1 devout. a unlearned.

106 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

being most spareful and given to profit, he so framed and
fashioned her by his dexterity that he lived a sweet and pleasant
life with her, and brought her to that case that she learned to play
and sing at the lute and virginals, and every day at his returning
home he took a reckoning and account of the task he had enjoined
her touching the said exercise.

This wife, on a time after shrift, 1 bade Sir Thomas be merry.
For I have , saith she, this day left all my shrewdness, and will
begin afresh. Which merry conceited talk, though now and then
it proved true in very deed, Sir Thomas More could well digest
and like in her and in his children and other.

Neither was he in her debt for repaying home again often time
such kind of talk. Among other things, when he divers times
beheld his wife, what pain she took in straight binding up her hair
to make her a fair, large forehead, and with strait bracing of her
body to make her middle small, both twain to her great pain, for
the pride of a little foolish praise, he said to her, Forsooth,
madame, if God give you not hell, he shall do you great wrong,
for it must needs be your own of very right, for you buy it very
dear, and take very great pain therefrom.

This wife, when she saw that Sir Thomas More, her husband,
had no list to grow greatly upward in the world, nor neither would
labour for office of authority, and over that forsook a right
worshipful room when it was offered him, she fell in hand with
him and all too rated him, and asked him:

* What will you do, that you list 2 not to put forth yourself as
other folk do? Will you sit by the fire, and make goslings in the
ashes with a stick as children do?

What would you do, I pray you?

By God, go forward with the first, for, as my mother was wont
to say, God have mercy on her soul, it is ever better to rule than
to be ruled. And therefore, by God, I would not, I warrant you,
be so foolish to be ruled where I might rule.

By my troth, wife, quoth her husband, in this I dare say you
say truth, for I never found you willing to be ruled yet.

When he was a prisoner in the Tower, and there had continued
a good while, his said wife obtained licence to see him. Who, at
the first coming, like a simple ignorant woman, and somewhat
worldly too, with this manner of salutation bluntly saluted him:

*What the good-year, Master More, quoth she. I marvel that
1 confession and absolution. * desire.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD IO7

you that have been hitherto taken for so wise a man, will now so
play the fool to lie here in this close, filthy prison, and be content
thus to be shut up among mice and rats, when you might be
abroad at your liberty, with the favour and good will both of the
King and his Council, if you would but do as all the Bishops and
best learned of this Realm have done. And seeing you have at
Chelsea a right fair house, your library, your books, your gallery,
your garden, your orchard and all other necessaries so handsome
about you, where you might in the company of me your wife, your
children and household, be merry, I muse what a God s name
you mean here still thus fondly to tarry.

After he had a while quietly heard her, with a cheerful coun
tenance he said unto her, I pray thee, good Mistress Alice, tell me
one thing.

What is that? quoth she.

Is not this house*, quoth he, as nigh heaven as mine own?
To whom she, after her accustomed homely fashion, not liking
such talk, answered, Tilly-vally, tilly-vally!

How say you, Mistress Alice? quoth he. Is it not so?
Bone Deus, Bone Deus, man, will this gear never be left?
quoth she.

Well, then, Mistress Alice, if it be so , quoth he, it is very well.
For I see no great cause why I should much joy either of my gay
house or of any thing belonging thereunto, when, if I should but
seven years lie buried under the ground, I should not fail to find
some therein that would bid me get out of doors, and tell me it
were none of mine. What cause have I then to like such a house
as would so soon forget his master?
So her persuasions moved him but a little.
Of some other talk in the Tower with his wife, Sir Thomas
More telleth a merry, pretty narration, but, as his fashion is,
under shadow of dissembled persons, but indeed meaning of
himself and this his wife, which you shall now hear, speaking
himself:

Indeed, I wist J a woman once that came into a prison to visit
of her charity a poor prisoner there, whom she found in a
chamber (to say the truth) meetly fair, and at the least wise it was
strong enough; but with mats of straw the prisoner had made it
so warm, both under the foot and round about the walls, that in
these things for the keeping of his health she was on his behalf

L knew.

IO8 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

glad and very well comforted. But among many other displeasures
that for his sake she was sorry for, one she lamented much in her
mind, that he should have the chamber door upon him by night
made fast by the gaoler that should shut him in. "For by my
troth," quoth she, "if the door should be shut upon me, I would
ween l it would stop up my breath."

At that word of hers the prisoner laughed in his mind, but
durst not laugh aloud, nor say anything to her, for somewhat
indeed he stood in awe of her, and had his finding 2 there, much
part, of her charity for alms ; but he could not but laugh inwardly,
while he wist well enough that she used on the inside to shut
every night full surely her own chamber to her, both door and
windows too, and used not to open them of all the long night.
What difference then as to the stopping of the breath whether
they were shut up within or without?

Which narrative he doth handsomely apply and accommodate
to his purpose.

And thus, lo, though Eve supplanted and overthrew by her
pleasant persuasions her husband, our first father, Adam, in
Paradise, yet could not this woman anything infringe or break
the constant settled good purposes of this worthy man, her
husband, no, not in his extreme adversity, no more than Job s
wife could shake and overturn any part of his good patience.
And yet surely no stronger nor mightier temptation in all the
world is there than that proceedeth from the wife. And therefore
some think and write that though the devil might have, by the
words of his commission given to him from God, destroyed also
Job s wife as well as he did his children, yet did the wretched,
malicious caitiff full wilily spare her, to make her his instrument
to the destruction of her husband s patience.

His Writings

It remaineth now then, that seeing as well the matter itself vye
have in hand, as our promise, craveth it at our hands, that we
speak somewhat of his books, whereby he hath consecrate his
worthy name to immortality in this transitory world to the world s
end. And J doubt not, for his great pains and travail therein,
especially for God s sake, to whom he had his principal respect,
he hath received his condign reward in the celestial world that
never shall have end. Whereof some are written in Latin only,
1 think. food, etc.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD IO9

some in English only, some certain in both tongues. We will
touch summarily of both sorts so much as may seem convenient
to our present purpose. And the more willingly this do we
because his books be rare, and the print spent up, and some as
well Latin as English never yet put to the print Howbeit, we trust
shortly to have all his English works, as well those that have been
set forth ere this, as some others, in print, wherein Master
Sergeant Rastell doth now diligently travail, and employeth his
good and careful endeavour to the furthering of the said good
purpose.

Among other his Latin books are his epigrams, partly trans
lated out of Greek, partly so wittily and pleasantly devised and
penned of his own, as they may seem to be nothing inferior or to
yield to any of like kind written in our days, and perchance
worthy to be set and compared with many like writers of the old
days. These Epigrams, as they be learned and pleasant, so are
they nothing biting or contumelious.

However certain merry conceited Epigrams that he made of
Germanus Brixius, a Frenchman, untruly and falsely setting forth
and advancing the valiant doings of the French captain Herveus
by the sea against the Englishmen, so incensed the said Brixius,
albeit the things that Sir Thomas More wrote were true, and yet
written in the time of hostility and war, that he wrote a very
spiteful book against the said Sir Thomas More, and so far forgot .
himself that he went about, as far as in him lay, to bring him in
discredit with King Henry the Eighth as one that was the King s
enemy. And so when the kings were at peace, Brixius long after
began with Master More his new and cruel war. His book he
entitled Antimorus, which Master More answered. And albeit he
had a great deal the better hand against Brixius, and that not only
by censure and judgment of Erasmus, Brixius s great friend, but
many other learned men Brixius s friends also, yet at the desire of
Erasmus, and upon sight of his letters, he stayed all his books,
newly printed, from further sale, and recovered into his hands
some copies that his friends had, to suppress them. So much
of Brixius, which I have the sooner planted in here because I
know Master More is herein by some Protestants noted and
slandered.

He wrote also most elegantly and eloquently the life of King
Richard the Third, not only in English, which book is abroad in
print, but corrupted and vitiated, but in Latin also, not yet

110 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

printed. He did not perfect and finish the same book, neither any
since durst take upon himself to set his hand to the pen to finish
it, either in the one or other tongue, all men being deterred and
driven from that enterprise by reason of the incomparable
excellency of the said work, as all other painters were afraid in
the old time to supply and perfect the image of Venus painted,
but imperfectly, by Apelles, for his excellent workmanship
therein.

Utopia

But the book that beareth the prick and price of all his other
Latin books of witty invention, for profane matters, is his
Utopia. He painteth me it forth so lively and so pleasantly, as it
were an exquisite platform, pattern and example of a singular
good commonwealth, as to the same neither the Lacedemonians ,
nor the Athenians , nor yet, the best of all other, the Romans
commonwealth is comparable. Prettily and probably devising the
said commonwealth to be in one of the countries of the new found
lands declared unto him at Antwerp by Hy thlodaye, a Portuguese,
and one of the sea companions of Americus Vespusius, that first
sought out and found these lands; such an excellent and absolute
state of commonwealth that, saving the people were unchristian,
might seem to pass any state and commonwealth, I will not say of
the old nations by me rehearsed, but even of any other even in
our time.

Many great learned men, as Budaeus and Johannes Paludinus,
seemed to take the same story as a true story. And Paludinus
upon a fervent zeal wished that some excellent divines might be
sent thither to preach Christ s Gospel; yea, then were here among
us at home sundry good men and learned divines very desirous
to take that voyage, to bring that people to Christ s faith, whose
manners they did so well like upon. And surely this said jolly
invention of Sir Thomas More seemed to bear a good counte
nance of truth, not only for the credit of Master More was in with
the world, but even for that about that time many strange and
unknown nations and many conclusions were discovered, such as
our forefathers did neither know nor believe; it was by most
certain experience found, especially by the wonderful navigation
ofnavis x called Victoria 2 that sailed the world round about, that
ships sail bottom to bottom, and that there be Antipodes, that is
1 ship. * One of Magellan s ships.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD III

to say, that walk foot against foot; which thing Lactantius and
others do flatly deny, laughing them to scorn that did so write.
Again, it is certainly found that there is under the Zodiac (where
Aristotle and others say that for the immoderate and excessive
heat is no habitation) most pleasant and temperate dwelling and
the most fruitful countries of all the world. These and other
considerations caused many wise, learned men nothing less to
distrust that this had been nothing but an inventive drift of Sir
Thomas More s own imagination and head, but took it for a very
sure known story. Wherein they were deceived by Master More,
as wise and as well learned as they were, as Zeuxis the painter
was in old time, notwithstanding he painted grapes so lively and
exquisitely that the birds came to pick upon them as upon very
grapes indeed. But when Parrhasius, another exquisite painter,
had shewed him a certain table, wherein he had painted a veil or
curtain, Take away , quoth Zeuxis, *this veil and curtain, that I
may see your painting itself. Whereat Parrhasius fell upon a
great laughter, saying, Yesterday, thou didst deceive the birds,
but this day I have deceived thee, as cunning a painter as thou
art. 9 For indeed it was no curtain, but a table so artificially
painted that it seemed to Zeuxis a very curtain.

In this book, among other things, he hath a very goodly process
how there might be fewer thieves in England, and a marvellous
inopinable l problem of sheep, that whereas men were wont to
eat the sheep, as they do in other countries, now contrariwise sheep
in England pitifully do devour man, woman and child, houses,
yea, and towns withal.

And like a most thankful man, he maketh honourable mention
of Cardinal Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord
Chancellor of England, in whose house, as we have said, him
self in his tender youth was brought up, albeit it be by the
dissembled name of the said Hythlodaye, whom he imagineth to
have been in England, and to have been acquainted with the said
Cardinal.

The King s Book

And as this book in his kind is singular and excellent, con
taining and prescribing a commonwealth far passing the common
wealths devised and instituted by Lycurgus, Solon, Numa
Pompilius, Plato and divers other, so wrote he La another kind
1 inconceivable.

112 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

and sort a book against Luther no less singular and excellent.
King Henry the Eighth had written a notable erudite book against
Luther s De Captivitate Babylonica, most evidently and mightily
refuting his shameful, vile heresies against the Catholic faith and
Christ s Holy Sacraments, which did so grieve and irk Luther to
the very heart, that having no good substantial matter to help
himself withal, he fell to scoffing and saucy jesting in his answer
to the King s book, using almost nothing else throughout his
answer but the fair figure of rhetoric called sauce malapert, and
playeth the very varlet with the King. To whom Sir Thomas
More made a reply, and so doth decipher and open his wretched
vile handling of the sacred Scripture, his monstrous opinions,
and manifest and manifold contradictions, that neither he nor
any of his generation durst ever after put pen to the book to
encounter and rejoin with his reply. In the which answer, beside
the deep and profound debating of the matter itself, he so
dresseth him with his own scoffing and jesting rhetoric as he
worthily deserved. But because this kind of writing, albeit a meet
cover for such a cup, and very necessary to repress and beat him
with his own folly, according to Scripture, Responde stulto
secwdwn stultitiam ejus?- seemed not very agreeable and corre
spondent to his said gravity and dignity, the book was set forth
under the name of one Gulielmus Rosseus only, suppressing his
own name.

He made also in Latin another proper and witty treatise against
a certain epistle of John Pomeranus, one of Luther s standard-
bearers in Germany.

And after he was shut up in the Tower, he wrote a certain
exposition in Latin upon the Passion of Christ, not yet printed,
which was not perfected, and is so plainly and exquisitely trans
lated into English by his foresaid niece, Mistress Basset, that it
may seem originally to have been penned in English by Sir
Thomas More himself.

Some other things he wrote also in Latin which we pretermit
and will now somewhat talk of his English works, which all,
beside the translation of John Picus, Earl of Mirandula, and the
foresaid life of King Richard, and some other few profane things,
concern matters of religion for the most part.

1 Proverbs xxvi. 5: Answer a fool according to his folly.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 113

Dialogue Concerning Heresies

The first book of this sort was his book of dialogues, 1 made
by him when he was Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster,
which books occasioned him afterwards (as, according to the old
proverb, one business begetteth another) to write divers other
things, for whereas he had among many other matters touched
and reproved William Tyndale s adulterate and vitiate translation
of the New Testament, Tyndale, not able to bear to see his new
religion and his own doings withal to have so foul an overthrow
as Sir Thomas More gave him, after great and long deliberation
and consultation with his evangelical brethren, took in hand to
answer some part of the said dialogues, especially touching his
aforesaid corrupt translation. But what small worship he won
thereby, it is easy for every man to see that with indifferent
affection will vouchsafe to read Sir Thomas More s reply, whereof
we shall give you a small taste.

But first we will note unto you the integrity, the sincerity and
uprightness, the good and gracious nature and disposition of the
said Sir Thomas More in his writing, not only against Tyndale,
but generally against all other Protestants. First then it is
to be considered in him that he doth not, as many writers do
against the adversaries and all the Protestants do against him
and other Catholics, writhe and wrest their words to the
worst, and make their reasons more weak and feeble than they
are, but rather enforceth them to the uttermost, and often times
farther than the party himself doth, or perchance could do. And
was of this mind, that he said he would not let while he lived,
wheresoever he perceived his adversary to say well, or himself to
have said otherwise, indifferently for both to say and declare the
truth. And therefore himself, finding after the printing and the
books divulged and commonly read of the Debellation of Salem
and Bizance (albeit many had read the place, and found no fault
therein) yet he, finding afterward that he mistook certain words
of the pacifier without any <3ther man s controlment, of himself
reformed them. The like he counselled his learned friends,
especially Erasmus, to do, and to retract many things that he had
written, whose counsel (wherein he had a notable precedent to
do in the worthy doctor St Augustine) if Erasmus had followed,
I trow his books would be better liked of our posterity, which

1 Dialogue Concerning Heresies (1529).

114 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

perchance shall be fain either utterly to abolish some of his
works, or at least to redress and reform them.

Here is now farther to be considered in his writings that he
neither hunted after praise and vainglory, nor any vile and filthy
gain or worldly commodity ; yea, so that envenomed and poisoned
heretical books might be once suppressed and abolished, he
wished his own in a light and fair fire also. Yet did the Evangelical
brethren, after he had abandoned the office of the Lord Chan
cellor (as they otherwise spread and wrote many vain and false
rumours to the advancement of their own new Gospel and
pressing of the Catholics) lay to his charge in their books that
he was partial to the clergy, and had for his books received a
great mass of money of the said clergy. And Tyndale and divers
other of the good brethren affirmed that they wist well that Sir
Thomas More was no less worth in money and plate and other
movables than twenty thousand marks. But it was found far
otherwise when his house was searched after that he was com
mitted to the Tower, where a while he had some competent
liberty, but afterward upon a sudden he was shut up very close.
At what time he feared there should be a new and a more
narrower search in all his houses, because his mind gave him that
some folk thougjit that he was not so poor as it appeared in the
search. But he told his daughter, Mistress Margaret Roper, that
it should make but a game to them that knew the truth of his
poverty, unless they should find out his wife s gay girdle and her
golden beads. The like poverty of any man that so long continued
a councillor with the King, and had borne so many great offices,
hath, I trow, seldom been found in any layman before, and much
less since his time.

As for partiality to the clergy, saving the reverence due to the
sacred order of priests, by whom we are made Christian men in
Baptism, and by whom we receive the other blessed Sacraments,
there was none in him. And that well felt they that were naught
of the said clergy, that had so little favour at his hands that there
was no man, that any meddling had with them, into whose hands
they were more loath to come than into his.

His Income

As for fees, annuities, rewards or other commodities that
should incline him to be over propense l and partial to the clergy ;
1 having a bias.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 115

first, touching any fees that he had to his living after that he had
left the said Chancellorship, he had not one groat granted him
since he first wrote or went about to write the dialogues, and that
was the first work that ever he wrote in matters of religion. And
as for all the lands and fees that he had of the King s gift, was not,
nor should be, during his mother-in-law s life (which lived after
he relinquished the office of the Chancellorship) worth yearly the
sum of one hundred pounds. And thereof he had some by his
wife, some left by his father, some he purchased, and some fees
had he of temporal men. And so may every man soon guess that
he had no great part of his living by the clergy to make him very
partial to them.

Now touching rewards or lucre that did rise to him by his
writing for the which good Father Tyndale said he wrote his
books, and not for any affection he bare to the clergy, no more
than Judas betrayed Christ for any favour he bare to the Bishops,
Scribes and Pharisees it is a most open shameful lying and
slander. Truth it is, that the Bishops and the clergy of England,
seeing (besides the continual pains he employed in the affairs of
the King and of the Realm) the great travail and labour he took
in writing against heretics, for the defence of the Catholic faith
and the repressing of damnable heresies, the reformation whereof
principally appertained to their pastoral cure, and thinking them
selves by his travails (wherein by their own confession they were
not able with him to make comparison) of their duties in that
behalf discharged, and considering that for all his Prince s favour
he was no rich man, nor in yearly revenues advanced as his
worthiness deserved, therefore at a convocation among them
selves and other of the clergy, they agreed together and concluded
upon a sum of four or five thousand pounds, at the least, to my
remembrance, for his pains to recompense him; to the payment
whereof every Bishop, Abbot, and the rest of the clergy were
after the rate of their abilities liberal contributors, hoping this
portion should be to his contentation.

Whereupon, Tunstall, Bishop of Durham, Clark, Bishop of
Bath, and as far as I can call to mind, Veysey, Bishop of Exeter,
repaired unto him, declaring how thankfully for his travails, to
their discharge, in God s cause bestowed, they reckoned them
selves bounden to consider him. And that albeit they could not
according to his deserts so worthily as they gladly would requite
him therefore, but must reserve that only to the goodness of God,

Il6 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

yet for a small part of recompense, in respect of his estate, so
unequally to his worthiness, in the name of their whole convoca
tion they presented to him that sum, which they desired him to
take in good part.

Who, forsaking it, said, that like as it was no small comfort
unto him that so wise and learned men so well accepted his simple
doings, for which he never intended to receive reward but at the
hands of God only, to whom alone was the thanks chiefly to be
ascribed, so gave he most humble thanks unto their honours for
all their so bountiful and friendly consideration.

When they, for all their so importune pressing upon him that
few would have weened 1 he could have refused it, could by no
means make him to take it, then besought they him to be content
yet that they might bestow it upon his wife and children. Not so,
my lords, quoth he, I had liefer 2 see it all cast into the Thames
than I or any of mine should have thereof the worth of one penny,
for though your offer, my lords, be indeed very friendly and
honourable, yet set I so much by my pleasure, and so little by my
profit, that I would not, in good faith, for so much, and much
more too, have lost the rest of so many nights* sleep as was spent
upon the same.

Against Tyndale

These things then being thus premised, let us now see how
substantially Tyndale and his fellows have handled their matters,
and let us begin with that that most pinched 3 Tyndale to hear of,
that is, his false and corrupt translation of the New Testament,
wherein it is to be considered that, as these good brethren partly
deny the very text itself and whole books of the sacred Scripture
(as the book of Maccabees and certain others, and Luther St
James epistle also) and as they adulterate, commaculate 4 and
corrupt the whole corps of the same with their wrong and false
expositions, far disagreeing with the consent of the holy, ancient
fathers and doctors and from the faith of the whole Catholic
Church, so for the advancing and furthering of their said heresies,
they have of a set purpose perverted and mistranslated the said
Holy Scripture, and after such shameful sort that amongst other
their mischievous practices, whereas in the Latin Epistle of Saint
Paul is read in the old translation fornicarii and in the new

1 thought. 2 rather.

* embittered. * defile.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 117

* scortatores , they have * sacerdotes , that is * priests *, for the good
devotion they bear to the sacred order of priesthood. And their
patriarch Luther with his translation in the Dutch tongue hath
wonderfully depraved, corrupted and defiled the said Holy
Scripture, as we could by divers means easily show.

Whom his good scholar Tyndale in his English translation
doth match or rather pass; wherein he turneth me this word
Church into congregation , Priest into senior and elder ;
which word congregation absolutely of itself (as Tyndale useth
it) doth no more signify the congregation of Christian men than a
fair flock of unchristian geese. Neither elder signifieth any whit
more a priest than this word presbyteros* an elder stick .
Many other parts of his translation are suitable 1 to this, as
where, in spite of Christ s and His Holy Saints images, he
turneth idols into images , and for like purpose of setting
forth his heresies, charity into love , grace into favour ,
confession into knowledge , penance* into repentance , with
such like.

For the which as also for divers of his false, faithless, heretical
assertions as well:

that the Apostles left nothing unwritten that is of necessity to

be believed;

that the Church may err in matters of faith;
that the Church is only of chosen unknown elects, touching

the manner and order of our election;
touching his wicked and detestable opinion against the free

will of man;
touching his fond, foolish, and inopinable paradoxes of the

elect, though they do abominable heinous acts, yet they do

not sin, and that the elect that once heartily repent, can sin

no more

he doth so substantially and so pleasantly confute and overthrow
Tyndale, that if these men that be envenomed and poisoned with
these pestilent heresies would with indifferent mind read the
said Sir Thomas More s answers, there were good hope (as it
hath, God be thanked, chanced to many already) of their good
and speedy recovery. But alack the while, and woe upon the
subtle craft of the cursed devil that so blindeth them and the
reckless, negligent regard that these men have to their soul health,
1 in accord with.

Il8 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

that can be content greedily to glut in the deadly poison of their
souls by reading and crediting of these mischievous books, and
yet will not once vouchsafe to take the wholesome, depulsive
treacle, 1 not to be fetched from Genes, 2 but even ready at home at
their hand in Sir Thomas More s books against this deadly,
dreadful infection.

But to return now again to the said Tyndale. Lord, what open,
foul and shameful shifts doth he make for the defence of his
wrong and naughty pestiferous assertions, and with what spite
ful, shameful lies belieth he Sir Thomas More, and wretchedly
depraveth his writings; not being ashamed (though his plain
manifest words lie open to the sight of all men to the contrary)
to deprave his answers, and among other, that he should affirm
that the Church of Christ should be before the Gospel was
taugjit or preached: which thing he neither writeth, nor once
thought (as a most absurd untruth), but that it was (as it is very
true) before the written Gospel. And the said Sir Thomas More,
seeing that by Tyndale s own confession the Church of God was
in the world many hundred years before the written laws of
Moses, doth well thereof gather and conclude against Tyndale
that there is no cause to be yielded but that much more it may
be so, and is so indeed, that in the gracious time of our redemp
tion the Holy Ghost, that leadeth the Church from time to
time into all truth, being so plentifully effused upon the same,
the Church of Christ is and hath ever been in many things
instructed necessary to be believed, that be not in any Scripture
comprised.

These and many other strong reasons to prove the common
known Catholic Church, and none other, to be the true Church of
Christ, and that seeing we do not know the very books of Scrip
ture (which thing Luther himself confesseth) but by the known
Catholic Church, we must of necessity take the sound and true
understanding of the said Scriptures, and of all our faith, of the
said Church (which understanding is confirmed in the same
Church from the Apostles time, and by infinite miracles, and
with the consent of the old Fathers and holy martyrs) with other
substantial reasons that Sir Thomas More layeth forth, have so
appalled and amazed Tyndale that he is like a man that were in
an inexplicable labyrinth and maze, whereof he can by no means
get out. And Tyndale being thus brought often times to a
1 prophylactic. a Geneva.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 119

bay x and utter distress, he scuddeth in and out like a hare that had
twenty brace of greyhounds after her, and were afeared at every
foot to be snatched up. And as Sir Thomas More also merrily,
and yet truly, writeth, he windeth him so wilily this way and
that way, and so shifteth in and out, and with his subtle shifting
he so bleareth our eyes 2 that he maketh us as blind as a
cat, and so mazeth us in his matters that we can no more see
whereabouts he walketh than if he went visible before us all
naked in a net, and in effect playeth the very blind hobbe 3 about
the house.

Sometimes when there is none other shift, Tyndale is driven to
excuse himself and his doings, as he doth for the word *pres-
by teros , that he translated first * senior * and then elder : wherein
for excuse of his fault, at great length he declareth four fair
virtues in himself, malice, ignorance, error and folly. And where
he said he had amended his fault with translating elder for
* senior , this was a like amending as if he would, where a man
were blind of the one eye, amend his sight by putting out the
other.

As Sir Thomas More answered Tyndale touching his unknown
Church, so did he Friar Barnes, for in that point both agreed, and
would have the Church secret and hid in hugger-mugger. 4 But in
the mean season they handle their matter so handsomely and so
artificially that their own reasons pluck down their own unknown
Church. And albeit they would have us believe the Church were
unknown, yet do they give us tokens and marks whereby it should
be known, and in perusing their unknown Church they fall into
many absurd, fond, foolish paradoxes, that Sir Thomas More
discovereth. And this unknown Church would they fain rear up
in the air, to pluck down the known Catholic Church in the
earth, and so leave us no Church at all. Which Church to over
throw is their final and only scope, for that standing, they
well know their malignant Church cannot stand, being by
the Catholic Church both now aad many hundred years before
condemned.

These and many other things doth Sir Thomas More at large
full well declare, and setteth the limping and halting goodwife
of the Bottle at Bottle s wharf 6 in disputation with Friar Barnes.

1 like a hunted animal. * hoodwinks us.

8 hobgoblin. * concealment

5 Botolph Wharf, near London Bridge.

120 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

In the which the indifferent reader shall soon see that she did
take not so much limp and halt as did the weak and lame reasons
that Friar Barnes brought against her of his unknown Church,
which she utterly overthroweth.

But yet, as they do, both Tyndale and Barnes, agree, as we
have said, in their secret unknown Church, so in other points
touching their said Church, and in many articles besides, they do
far square 1 and disagree, and not so much the one from the other
as from their own self, as Sir Thomas More sheweth more at
large. For,* saith he, as they that would have builded up the
Tower of Babylon for themselves against God, had such a stop
thrown upon them that suddenly none understood what another
said, surely so God upon these heretics of our time that go so
busily about to heap up to the sky their foul, filthy dunghill of
all old and new false, stinking heresies gathered up together
against the true Catholic faith of Christ that himself hath ever
taught his true Catholic Church God, I say, which, when the
Apostles went about to preach the true faith, sent down his own
Holy Spirit of unity, concord and truth unto them, with the gift
of speech and understanding, so that they understood every man
and every man understood them, hath reared up and sent among
these heretics the spirit of error and lying, of discord and division,
the damned devil of hell, which so entangleth their tongues, and
so distempereth their brains, that they neither understand well
one of them another, nor any of them well himself/

The books of the said Tyndale and Barnes are farced 2 and
stuffed more with jesting and railing than with any good sub
stantial reason. And notwithstanding a man would think that
Tyndale were in fond scoffing peerless, yet, as Sir Thomas More
declareth, Friar Barnes doth far overrun him and often times
fareth as he were from a Friar waxen a fiddler, and would at a
tavern go get him a penny for a fit of mirth. And yet sometime
will he full demurely and holily preach and take upon him as he
were Christ s own dear Apostle, as do also the residue brethren
that write, and especially Tyndale, who beginneth the preface of
his book with *the grace of our Lord, the light of his spirit , and
so forth, with such a solemn, glorious, glistering salutation as
though it were St Paul himself. But Sir Thomas More doth
accordingly dress 3 him, and discover to the world Friar Luther s
and Tyndale s and such other false, feigned, hypocritical holiness
1 diverge. 8 crammed. * reprimand.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 121

in their so high and solemn salutations and preachings, and con-
cludeth not more pleasantly than truly, that when a man well
considereth those their salutations and holy preachings, and
considereth their lying and pestiferous heresies in these their holy
salutations and preachings, he may well and truly judge these
their holy counterfeit salutations and sermons to be a great deal
worse than ever Friar Frappe, who first gapeth and then blesseth,
and looketh holy, and preacheth ribaldry, was ever wont at
Christmas to make.

And thus will we leave Tyndale and Barnes and speak of some
other of the holy fraternity. Among whom there was one that
made The Supplication of Beggars, the which Sir Thomas More
answered very notably, before he wrote against Tyndale and
Barnes. This Supplication was made by one Simon Fish, but God
gave him such grace afterward that he was sorry and repented
himself, and came into the Church again, and forsook and for-
sware all the whole hill of these heresies out of the which fountain,
of his great zeal, that moved him to write, sprang.

After this Sir Thomas More wrote a letter impugning the
erroneous writing of John Frith.

Apologye

And whereas after that he had given over the office of the Lord
Chancellor, the heretics full fast did write against him, and found
many faults with him and his writings, he made a goodly and a
learned Apologye (of some of his answers in the said Apologye we
have already, upon occasion, somewhat touched) especially of
that they laid to his charge of the slender recital or misrehearsing
of T^ndale and Barnes arguments, and sheweth that they were
calumnious slanders, and that himself used Tyndale and Barnes
after a contrary and better manner than they used him, for he
rehearseth Sir Thomas More s arguments in every place faintly
and falsely too, and leaveth out the pith and the strength and the
proof that most maketh for the purpose; and he fareth therein as
if there were one that having day of challenge appointed, in which
he should wrestle with his adversary, would find the mean by craft
to get his adversary before the day into his own hands, and there
keep him and diet him with such a thin diet, that, at the day, he
bringeth forth feeble, faint and famished, and almost hunger
starven, and so lean that he can scant stand on his legs, and then
is it easy, ye wot well, to give the silly soul a fall. And yet when

122 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Tyndale* had * done all this, he taketh the fall himself . But every
man may well see that Sir Thomas More never useth that way
with Tyndale, nor with any of those folk, but rehearseth their
reason to the best that they can make it themselves, and rather
enforceth and strengthened it (as we have before declared) of
his own, than taketh any part of theirs therefrom.

Whereas now farther they found fault with the length of his
books, he writeth, among other things, that it is little marvel
that it seem long and tedious unto them to read it over within,
whom it irketh to do so much as look it over without, and every
way seemeth long to him that is weary ere he begin . But I find ,
saith he, some men again to whom the reading is so far from
tedious^ that they have read the whole book over thrice, and some
that make tables l thereof for their own remembrance, and that
such men as have as much wit and learning both, as the best of
all this blessed brotherhood that ever I heard of.

And then for shortness of Barnes books that the adversaries
did commend, he writeth that he wotteth never well whether he
may call them long or short: *for sometime they be short indeed
because they be dark and have their false follies pass and repass
unperceived. Sometimes they can use such compendious kind of
eloquence that they convey and couch up together with a wonder
ful brevity four follies and five lies in less than as many lines. But
yet for all this, I see not in effect any men more long then they,
for they preach sometimes a long process to very little purpose.
And since that of all their whole purpose they prove in conclusion
never a piece at all were their writing never so short, yet were their
whole work at last too long by altogether .

Besides many other things, his adversaries laid to his charge
that he handled Tyndale, Frith and Barnes ungodly and with
uncomely words, wherein he thus answereth, Now when that
against all the whole Catholic Church, both that now is, and that
ever before hath been from the Apostles days hitherto, both
temporal and spiritual, laymen and religious, and against all that
good is, saints, ceremonies, service of God, the very Sacraments
and all, and most against the best, that is, to wit, the precious
body and blood of Our Saviour Himself in the Holy Sacrament
of the Altar, these blasphemous heretics in their ungracious books
so villainously jest and rail, were not a man, ween you, very far
overseen, 2 and worthy to be counted uncourteous, that would in
1 summaries. * mistaken.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 123

writing against their heresies presume without great reverence to
rehearse their worshipful names? If any of them use their words
at their pleasure, as evil and as villainous as they list, against
myself, I am content to forbear any requiting thereof, and give
them no worse words again than if they spake me fair, not using
themselves towards all other folk as they do, fairer words will I
not give them than if they spake me foul. For all shall be one to
me, or rather the worse the better, for the pleasant oil of heretics
cast upon mine head can do my mind no pleasure, but contrari
wise, the worse that folk write of me for hatred that they bear to
the Catholic Church and faith, the greater pleasure (as for mine
own part) they do me. But surely their railing against all other I
purpose not to bear so patiently as to forbear to let them hear
some part of like language as they speak. Howbeit, utterly to
match them therein I neither can though I would, nor will though
I could, but am content (as I needs must) to give them therein the
mastery, wherein to match them were more rebuke than honesty.
For in their only railing standeth all their revel, with only railing
is all their roast meat basted, and all their pot seasoned, and all
their pie meat spiced, and all their manchettes, 1 and all their
wafers, and all their hippocras 2 made.

He addeth farther, If they , saith he, * will not (which were the
next) be heretics alone themselves, and hold their tongues and be
still, but will needs be babbling and corrupt whom they can, let
them yet at the leastwise be reasonable heretics and honest, and
write reason, and leave railing, and then let the brethren find the
fault with me, if I use them not after that in words as fair and as
mild as the matter may suffer and bear.

About this time there was one that had made a book of the
division of the spirituality and temporality , of the which book
the brethren made great store, and blamed Sir Thomas More that
he had not used in his writing such a soft and mild manner and
such an indifferent fashion as the said person did. By occasion
whereof Sir Thomas More discourseth upon the said book (the
author whereof pretended to make a pacification of the foresaid
division and discord), and openeth many faults and follies and
heinous false slanders against the clergy, craftily and smoothly,
under an holy collusion and pretence of pacification, in the said
books. To the which Sir Thomas More s discourse there came an
answer afterward in print under the title of Salem and Bizance.
1 wheaten bread. * spiced wine.

124 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

To the which Sir Thomas More replied, and so dressed this pretty,
politic pacifier that he had no lust, nor any man for him, to
encounter afterwards with the said Sir Thomas.

Salem and Bizance

The pretty, pleasant, witty declaration of the title of the said
book (because it is seldom and rare to be gotten) I will now,
gentle reader, set before thine eyes. The title is framed in this
sort: The debellation x of Salem and Bizance, sometime two
great towns, which being under the great Turk, were between
Easter and Michaelmas last passed, this present year of our Lord
1533, with a marvellous metamorphosis enchanted and turned
into two Englishmen, by the wonderful inventive wit and witch
craft of Sir John Somesay, the pacifier, and so by him conveyed
hither in a dialogue, to defend his division against the Apologye
of Sir Thomas More, knight. But now being thus, between the
said Michaelmas and Allhallowtide next ensuing, in this debel
lation vanquished, they be fled hence and vanished, and are
become two towns again, with those old names changed, Salem
into Jerusalem, and Bizance into Constantinople, the one in
Greece and the other in Syria, where they may now see them
that will and win them that can. And if the pacifier convey them
hither again, and ten such other towns with them, embattled in
such dialogues, Sir Thomas More hath undertaken to put himself
in the adventure alone against them all. But and if he let them
tarry still there, he will not utterly forswear it, but he is not much
minded as yet, age now so coming on, and waxing all unwieldy, to
go thither and give the assault to such well walled towns, without
some such lusty company as shall be somewhat likely to leap up
a little more lightly.*

This is the title of the foresaid book. And that in very deed
the said Sir Thomas More hath most valiantly discomforted the
pacifier, and overthrown his two great towns, may easily appear
to such as will vouchsafe to read the said Sir Thomas More his
answer, the circumstances and particularities whereof to rehearse,
would make our present Treatise to grow too big.

I will only shew you a declaration or two of Sir Thomas More,

whereby you may make some aim to judge by the whole doings

of the said pacifier. If it were so , saith Sir Thomas More, that

one found two men standing together, and would come step in

1 subjugation.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 125

between them, and bear them in hand they were about to fight,
and would with that word put the one prettily back with his hand,
and all to buffet the other about the face, and then go forth and
say that he had parted a fray and pacified the parties, some men
would say again (as I suppose) that he had as lief his enemy
were let alone with him, and thereof abide the adventure, as have
such a friend step in between to part them.
^ Another of a man that were angry and fallen out with his wife,
and haply not without cause. Now, saith Master More, *if
the author of this book would take upon him to reconcile them
together, and help to make them at one, and therein would use
this way, that when he had them both before him, would tell all
the faults of the wife, and set among them some of his own
imagination and assertion, and then would go about to avoid his
words under the colour of his fair figure of Somesay (which he
commonly useth in his book of pacification) either by forgetful-
ness or by the figure of plain folly, and then would afterwards tell
her husband his parsverse * too, and tell him that he himself had
not dealt well with her, but have used to make her homely with
him, and have suffered her to be too much idle, and suffered her
to be too much conversant among her gossips, and have given her
over gay gear, and sometimes given her evil words, and call her
(as I hear say) cursed quean 2 and shrew, and some say that she
behind your back calleth you knave and cuckold ; were not this
a proper kind of pacification? *x

And yet is this the lively pattern and image of Master Pacifier s
doings. Of the which and of his spinning fine lies with flax,
fetching it out of his own body as the spider doth her cobweb,
feigning and finding fault with Sir Thomas More for these
matters and words whereof he saith the plain contrary, he had
great cause to be ashamed. Howbeit little shame could cleave to
his cheeks, but that he would soon shake it away while his name
was not at his book.

We have now one book more written in matter of religion, and
of the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar by the said Sir Thomas
More. We told you before of a letter of his wherein he impugned
the wicked heresy of John Frith. Now had the said Frith, albeit
he were a prisoner in the Tower of London, found the means to
make answer to the said letter, and to convey it beyond the seas
where it was printed. And it was afterwards brought into this
1 lesson. *jade.

126 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Realm, as Sir Thomas More did certainly understand, who
minded, when the book came into his hands, to answer it. But
now in the mean season came there from beyond the sea an
answer to the said letter, made by some other, and printed
without the author s name, entitled The Supper of our Lord.
*But I beshrew me, quoth Sir Thomas More, such a sewer l as so
serveth in the Supper that he conveyeth away the best dish, and
bringeth it not to the board, as this man would, if he could,
convey from the Blessed Sacrament Christ s own blessed flesh
and blood, and leave us nothing therein but for a memorial only
bare bread and wine. But his hands are too lumpish, and this
mess also too great for him to convey clean, especially since the
dish is so dear and so dainty that every Christian man hath his
heart bent thereto, and therefore his eye set thereon to see where
it becometh. This naughty, nameless author Sir Thomas More
doth not only by the authority of the sacred Scripture and holy
ancient fathers, but by his own reasons and texts that himself
bringeth forth, plainly and evidently convince.

Written in the Tower

Now have we besides other excellent and fruitful books of his
which he made being prisoner in the Tower, as his three books
of Comfort against Tribulation, A Treatise to receive the Blessed
Sacrament sacramentally and virtually both, A Treatise upon the
Passion, with notable introductions to the same. He wrote also
many other godly and devout instructions and prayers.

And surely, of all the books that ever he made, I doubt whether
I may prefer any of them to the said three books, yea, or any other
man s, either heathen or Christian, that have written (as many
have) either hi the Greek or Latin of the said matter. And as for
heathen, I do this worthy man plain injury, and do so much abuse
him in matching and comparing him with them, especially in this
point seeing that though they were never otherwise so incompar
able, they lacked yet and knew not the very special and principal
ground of comfort and consolation, that is the true faith in
Christ, in whom, and for whom, and His glory, and from whom,
we must seek and fetch all our true comfort and consolation.
Well, let them pass, and let us then further say, that as the said
Sir Thomas More notably passeth many learned Christians that
have of the same matter written before, so let us add that it may

1 attendant.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 127

well be doubted, all circumstances well considered and weighed,
if any of the residue may seem much to pass him, or to be far
preferred afore him. There is in these books so witty, so pithy,
and so substantial matter for the easing and remedying and
patiently suffering of all manner of griefs and sorrows that may
possibly encumber any man, by any manner or kind of tribula
tion, whether their tribulation proceed of any inward temptation
of our ghostly enemy the devil, or by any outward temptation of
the world threatening to spoil and bereave us of our goods, lands,
honour, of our liberty and freedom, by grievous and sharp
imprisonment, or finally of our life withal, by any painful and
exquisite cruel death; against all which he doth so wonderfully,
so effectually, and so strongly prepare, defence and arm the
reader, that a man cannot desire or wish anything of more
efficacy or importance thereto to be added. In the which books his
principal drift and scope was to stir and prepare the minds of
Englishmen manfully and courageously to withstand, and not to
shrink at, the imminent and open persecution which he foresaw
and immediately followed, against the unity of the Church and
the Catholic faith of the same. Albeit full wittily and wisely, that
the books might the more safely go abroad, he doth not expressly
meddle with those matters, and coloureth the matter under the
name of an Hungarian, and of the persecution of the Turk in
Hungary, and of a book translated out of the Hungarian s tongue
into Latin, and then into the English tongue.

Of these books there is then great account to be made, not
only for the excellent matters comprised, and most wittily and
learnedly handled therein, but for that also they were made when
he was most straitly enclosed and shut up from all company in
the Tower. In which sort, I doubt whether a man should find any
other book of like worthiness made by any Christian. And yet if
any such be to be found, and such as this, much soon should
yield and give place to the same; yet, surely, there is one thing
wherein these books of Sir Thomas More by an especial pre
rogative surmount, or else I am deceived, all other of this sort,
and that is, that they were for the most part written with none
other pen in the world than with a coal, as was also his Treatise
upon the Passion, which copy, if some men had, they might and
would esteem than other books written with golden letters, and
would make no less account of it than St Jerome did of certain
books of the learned martyr Lucian written with his own hand,

128 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

that perchance he happed upon and esteemed them as a precious
jewel.

And yet is there one thing that in the valuing and praising of
these books I esteem above all other, and that is, that in these
books he is not, as many great clerks in their books sometimes
are, like to a whetstone, that being blunt and dull itself, whetteth
and sharpeneth other things; it was not so with this man; for
albeit he wrote these books with a dead black coal, yet was there
another and a most hot burning coal, such a one, I say, as touched
and purified the lips of the holy prophet Esaias, that directed his
hand with the dead coal, and so inflamed and incensed his heart
with all to heavenward, that the good and wholesome instructions
and counsel that he gave to other men in his books he himself
shortly after, in most patient suffering of the loss of his goods,
lands, of imprisonment, and of death withal, for the defence of
Justice and the Catholic faith, experimented and worthily
practised in himself, as we shall hereafter in place convenient
more largely shew and declare.

And these be in effect the books he made either in Latin or
English, which his English books, if they had been written by him
in the Latin tongue also, or might be, with the like grace they now
have, translated into the Latin speech, they would surely much
augment and increase the estimation and admiration that the
world hath already in foreign countries of his incomparable wit
and learning, for the which he was even while he lived through
out all Christendom marvellously accounted upon and renowned,
as appeareth by the writings of sundry learned men, with many of
which he was well acquainted also by reason of his embassies into
France and Flanders, especially with Erasmus and Petrus Aegidius,
which two persons, when that one Quintinius, a singular good
painter, had set forth and painted in a certain table, 1 Sir Thomas
More made thereof certain verses, declaring that he was sorry that
himself was not set in the same table, who did so entirely love them
both. The said Erasmus of all men in the world most delighted
in the company of Sir Thomas More, whose help and friendship
he much used when he had any affair with King Henry the Eighth.

His Conversation and Wit

The which King, for the exquisite learning that he well knew,
not only by his erudite books, but by good experience of him
1 painted on a wooden panel.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 129

otherwise, he was adorned withal, for many years used upon
holy-days, when he had done his devotions, to send for him
into his travers l and there to sit and confer with him, not only
in matters and affairs of this Realm, but also in astronomy,
geometry, divinity and other faculties. And otherwhiles would he
in the night have him into his leads, 2 there to consider with him the
diversities, courses, motions and operations of the stars and
planets, with whom he was, as not lightly with any man more, at
other times wonderfully familiar, as we have partly touched
before, not only for his learning sake, but because he was of so
merry and pleasant disposition. And therefore both he and the
Queen, after the Council had supped, at the time of their supper,
for their pleasure would be merry with him. Whom when he
perceived so much in his talk to delight that he could not once in
a month get leave to go home to his wife and children, whose
company he most desired, and to be absent from the Court two
days together but that he should be thither sent for again, he,
much misliking this restraint of his liberty, began thereupon
somewhat to dissemble his nature, and so little and little from his
accustomed mirth to disuse himself, that he was of them from
thenceforth at such season no more so ordinarily sent for as he
was wont to be.

Now for his wise, pleasant, witty talk, and for his other
qualities, he had besides his learned friends many other as well
in England as otherwhere, but yet none so dear and so entire to
him as was the good and gracious right worshipful merchant
Master Antonio Bonvisi. To whom he, being prisoner in the
Tower, a little before he was arraigned and condemned, wrote a
Latin letter with a coal, wherein among other things he con-
fesseth himself that he had been almost forty years not a guest,
but a continual nursling, in his house, and the singular favour,
help and aid that he had at all times, especially in his adversities
and troubles, felt at his hands, and that few did so fawn upon their
fortunate friends as he did favour, love, foster and honour him
being overthrown, abjected, 3 afflicted and condemned to prison.
And Sir Thomas More was wont to call him the apple of his eye.
This worthy merchant would often talk of him and also of Sir
Thomas Cromwell, with whom he was many years familiarly

1 apartment screened off from a larger one.
a flat roof covered with lead.
8 brought low.

130 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

acquainted, and would report many notable and as yet commonly
unknown things, and of their far squaring, 1 unlike and disagree
able 2 natures, dispositions, sayings and doings, whereof there is
now no place to talk.

But because we are in hand with the books and learning of the
said Sir Thomas More, I will now tell you this one thing only,
that I have heard him report that he would at table and other
where wonderful deeply and clerkly talk with learned men, as
well English as of other countries, and that he once knew when a
very excellent learned man (as he was taken), a stranger, being in
this Realm, chanced to be at table with Sir Thomas More, whom
he knew not. At which table there was a great reasoning between
the said stranger and others of many great points of learning. At
length Sir Thomas More set in a foot and coped 3 with the said
stranger, and demeaned himself so cunningly and learnedly that
the said stranger, which was a religious man, was much astonished
and abashed to hear such profound reasons at a layman s hands.
And thereupon inquired of such as were nearest at hand to him
what his name was, which when he once understood, he had no
great pleasure afterward to encounter any more with him.

And his good blessed disposition and wise behaviour in such
kind of disputations is worth the noting. For among all other his
virtues, he was of such meekness that, if it fortuned him with any
learned man resorting to him from Oxford, Cambridge or else
where (as there did divers, some for desire of his acquaintance,
some for the famous report of his wisdom and learning, and some
for suits of the Universities) to have entered into arguments
(wherein few were comparable to him) and so far to have dis
coursed with them therein that he might perceive they could not
without some inconvenience hold out much farther disputation
against him, then, lest he should discomfort them (as he that
sought not his own glory, but rather would seem conquered than
discourage students in their studies, ever shewing himself more
desirous to learn than to teach) would by some witty device
courteously break off into some other matter, and give over.

Of whom for his wisdom and learning had the King such an
opinion that, at such times as he attended upon His Highness
taking his progress either to Oxford or Cambridge, where he was
received with very eloquent orations, His Grace would always
assign him, as one that was prompt and ready therein, ex tempore,
1 diverging. * not in agreement * contended.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 131

to make answer thereunto, whose manner was, whensoever he
had occasion, either here or beyond the sea, to be in any Univer
sity, not only to be present at the readings and disputations there
commonly used, but also learnedly to dispute among them
himself.

But now it is time to cease from further entreating of his
learning and books, saving I think good to be by the way marked
and noted how he could possibly write so many and excellent
works, either being out of prison, though furnished with books,
being so continually travailed in the affairs of the King s Council
and of his great offices, but that one great help was the excellency
of his wit and memory, which were both twain singular, and one
other, that he spared and saved much time that men commonly
mis-spend in eating and sleeping; or being in prison, being, as he
was, so unfurnished of books.

We will now pursue the form and trade of his other actions and
doings, after the time that he had abandoned the aforesaid office
of the Lord Chancellor until the time that he suffered at Tower
Hill. But yet it shall not be perchance amiss, seeing we have set
forth to your sight his excellent learningand some singular qualities
of his blessed soul and mind, somewhat also here to interlace to
the contentation of such as be desirous thereof, before we go
farther, of his body also, and of other things thereto belonging.

Personal Appearance

Then, as he was no tall man (so was he no notable low and
little man), all the parts of his body were in as good proportion
and congruence as a man would wish. His skin was somewhat
white, and the colour of his face drew rather to whiteness than
to paleness, far from redness, saving that some little red sparkles
everywhere appeared. His hair was blackish yellow, or rather
yellow blackish, his beard thin, his eyes grey and speckled, which
kind of eyes do commonly betoken and signify a very good and
sharp wit. And they say that such kind of eyes are least encum
bered with diseases and faults. His countenance was conformable
to his nature and disposition, pleasant and amiable, somewhat
resembling and tending to the fashion of one that would laugh.

His voice was neither boisterous and big, neither too small and
shrill. He spake his words very distinctly and treatably, 1 without
any manner of hastiness or stuttering. And albeit he delighted in
1 deliberately.

132 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

all kind of melody, yet he seemed not of nature to be apt and
meet to sing himself,

He enjoyed the health of his body full well; and though he
were not very strong of body, yet was he able to go through with
any labour and pain meet and convenient for him for to dispatch
his business and affairs. He was very little infested and encum
bered with sickness, saving a little before he gave over the office
of the Lord Chancellor, and especially afterwards, when he was
shut up in the Tower.

And now somewhat to speak of his diet. Being a young man, he
used and delighted much in drinking of water. He used very small
ale, and as for wine, he did but sip of it only for company s sake
and pledging of his friends. He more delighted to feed upon beef,
salt meats and coarse bread, and that very little leavened, than
upon fine meats and bread. He loved very well milk and fruit and
especially eggs.

It was a great pleasure to him to see and behold the form and
fashion, the manner and disposition, of divers beasts. There was
not lightly any kind of birds that he kept not in his house, as he
kept also the ape, the fox, the weasel, the ferret and other beasts
that were rare and not common. Besides, if there had been any
thing brought out of strange countries, or worthy to be looked
upon, that was he very desirous to buy, and to adorn and furnish
his house withal, to the contentation and pleasure of such as came
to him, who took great pleasure in the beholding of such things
and himself also with them.

After his Resignation

Now then, when he had rid himself of that office, and obtained
that that neither chanced to Scipio Africanus, the Great Pompey,
Marcus Tullius Cicero, nor to the Emperor Augustus, to be dis
charged when they most desired of the cumbersome affairs of the
commonwealth, nor lightly doth chance to men that be entangled
therein, and had now gotten that which he ever most desired, that,
being discharged of such offices and troubles, he might set and
bestow the residue of his life in ghostly l and spiritual studies,
meditations and exercises to heavenward; this his desire, I say,
when God had mercifully and graciously granted him, he was
the gladdest man thereof in the world, and, as partly ye may
understand by the premises, employed bis time accordingly.

1 sacred.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 133

After he had thus given over the Chancellorship, and placed
all his gentlemen and yeomen with Bishops and noblemen, and
his eight watermen with the Lord Audley, that in the same office
next succeeded him, to whom also he gave his great barge, then
calling all his children unto him, and asking their advice how
they might now in this decay of his ability (by the surrender of
his office so impaired that he could not, as he was wont, and
gladly would, bear out the whole charges of them all himself)
from thenceforth be able to live and continue together, as he
would wish they should, when he saw them silent, and in that
case not ready to shew their opinions unto him, Then will r,
said he, shew my poor mind to you. I have been brought up*,
quoth he, at Oxford, at an Inn of Chancery, at Lincoln s Inn and
also in the King s Court, and so forth from the lowest degree to
the highest, and yet have I in yearly revenues at this present left
me little above an hundred pounds a year; so that now must we
hereafter, if we like to live together, be content to become
contributors together. But by my counsel it shall not be best for
us to fall to the lowest fare first. We will not therefore descend to
Oxford fare, nor to the fare of New Inn, but we will begin with
Lincoln s Inn diet, where many right worshipful and of good
years do live full well. Which if we find not ourselves the first year
able to maintain, then will we the next year go one step down to
New Inn fare, wherewith many an honest man is well contented.
If that exceed our ability too, then will we the next year after
descend to Oxford fare, where many grave, learned and ancient
fathers be continually conversant. Which if our power stretch not
to maintain neither, then may we yet, like poor scholars of
Oxford, go a-begging with our bags and wallets, and sing Salve
Regina at rich men s doors, where for pity some good folks will
give us their merciful charity, and so still keep company, and go
forth and be merry together.

And whereas you have heard before he was by the King from
a very worshipful living taken into His Grace s service, with whom,
in all the great and weighty causes that concerned His Highness
or the Realm, he consumed and spent with painful cares, travails
and troubles, as well beyond the sea as within this Realm, in
effect the whole substance of his life; yet with the gain he got
thereby, being never wasteful spender thereof, was he not able,
after the resignation of his office of the Lord Chancellor, for the
maintenance of himself and such as necessarily belonged

134 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

unto him, sufficiently to find meat, drink, fuel, apparel and such
other necessary charges. But was enforced and compelled, for
lack of other fuel, every night before he went to bed, to cause a
great burden of fern to be brought into his own chamber, and
with the blaze thereof to warm himself, his wife and his children,
and 50 without any other fires to go to their beds.

Our Christian Zimachus, Aristides, Epaminondas, Agrippa,
Publicola, Servilius, which are with immortal fame and glory
renowned for their integrity, and for that that, notwithstanding
they had the greatest sway and offices in the commonwealth, the
first two at Athens, the third at Thebes, the residue at Rome, yet
died they very poor and needy.

And now let Tyndale and his other good brethren say and lie
on apace, that he well wist that Sir Thomas More, after he gave
over the Chancellorship, was no less worthy in money, plate and
other movables than twenty thousand marks. The which report
the said Sir Thomas hearing, confessed, if he had heaped up so
much goods together, he had gotten the one half by right.

As for the lands that he ever purchased, they were not above
the value of twenty marks by the year. And after his debts paid,
he had not, his chain excepted, in gold and silver left him the
worth of one hundred pounds.

And that he might the more quietly settle himself to the service
of God, then made he a conveyance for the disposition of all his
lands, reserving to himself an estate thereof only for the term of
his own life, and after his decease assuring some part of the same
to his wife, some to his son s wife for a jointure in consideration
that she was an inheritrix in possession of more than an hundred
pound of land by the year, and some to Master William Roper
and his wife in recompense of their marriage money, with divers
remainders over. All which conveyance and assurance was
perfectly finished long before that matter whereupon he was
attainted was made an offence, and yet after by Statute clearly
avoided, and so were all his lands that he had to his wife and
children by the said conveyance in such sort assured, contrary to
the order of the law, taken away from them, and brought into the
King s hands/ saving that portion that he had appointed to
Master William Roper and his wife, which, although he had in
the foresaid conveyance reserved, as he did the rest, for the term
of life to himself, nevertheless upon further consideration two
days after, by another conveyance, he gave the same immediately

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 135

to Master William Roper and his wife in possession. And so
because the Statute had undone only the first conveyance, giving
no more to the King but so much as passed by that, the second
conveyance, whereby it was given to the foresaid Master Roper
and his wife, being dated two days after, was without the com
pass of the Statute, and so was that portion to them by that
means clearly reserved.

Now upon his resignment of the aforesaid office, came Master
Thomas Cromwell, then high in the King s favour, to Chelsea to
him, with a message from the King. Wherein when they had
throughly communed together, Master Cromwell, quoth he,
you are now entered into the service of a most noble, wise and
liberal Prince; if you will follow my poor advice, you shall, in
your counsel giving to His Grace, ever tell him what he ought to
do, but never what he is able to do; so shall you shew yourself a
true, faithful servant and a right worthy Councillor; but if a
lion knew his own strength, hard were it for any man to rule
him. Which wise and wholesome advice of Sir Thomas More, if
the said Cromwell had followed accordingly, he had done the
part of a good Councillor, and perchance preserved the King and
the Realm from many grievous enormities they fell in, and himself
from the utter ruin and destruction he at length fell in.

A while after this, Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, having
a commission sent to him to decide, end and determine the matter
of the King s marriage, in open consistory pronounced at St
Albans and gave sentence definitive against the marriage of
Queen Catherine, and declared the same void, frustrate and of no
manner of validity or force. Whereupon the King married with
the Lady Anne Boleyn, to whom long before, as it is well known,
he bare marvellous great love and affection, and caused her
afterwards solemnly to be crowned.

The Coronation of Queen Anne

It fortuned that not long before the King s coining through
the streets of London from the Tower to Westminster to the said
coronation, that Sir Thomas More received a letter from the
Bishops of Durham, Bath and Winchester, requesting him both to
keep them company from the Tower to the coronation, and also
to take twenty pounds that by the bearer thereof they had sent
him, to buy him a gown, which he thankfully receiving, and at
home still tarrying, at their next meeting, said merrily unto them,

136 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

My Lords, in the letter which you lately sent me, you required
two things of me, the one whereof since I was so well content to
grant you, the other therefore I thought I might be the bolder to
deny you. And like as the one, because I took you for no beggars,
and myself I knew to be no rich man, I thought I might the rather
fulfil, so the other did put me in remembrance of an Emperor,
that had ordained a law that whosoever committed a certain
offence (which I now remember not) except it were a virgin,
should suffer the pains of death, such reverence had he for
virginity. Now, so happed it that the first committer of the
offence was indeed a virgin. Whereof this Emperor, hearing, was
in no small perplexity, as he that by some example fain would
have had that law to have been put in execution. Whereupon
when his council had sit long, solemnly debating this case,
suddenly rose there up one of his Council, a good plain man
among them, and said, "Why make ye so much ado, my Lords,
about so small a matter? Let her first be deflowered, and then
after may she be devoured." And so, though your Lordships have
in the matter of the matrimony hitherto kept yourselves pure
virgins, yet take good heed, my Lords, that you keep your
virginity still, for some be there that by procuring your Lordships
first at the coronation to be present, and next to preach for the
setting forth of it, and finally to write books unto all the world in
defence thereof, are desirous to deflower you and when they have
deflowered you then will they not fail soon after to devour you.
Now, my Lords/ quoth he, * it lieth not in my power but that they
may devour me, but God being my good Lord, I will provide that
they shall never deflower me.*

After the said marriage and coronation so solemnized, Sir
Thomas More, partly (as a deep wise man) foreseeing what
inconveniences and troubles he might purchase himself with
intermeddling of the princely affairs, and foreseeing the tem
pestuous stormy world that indeed afterwards did most terribly
insurge, and partly for that he had principally relinquished that
office, as well because his health was decayed, as that he would
now the residue of his life withdraw and sequester from all
manner worldly business, and wholely beset it upon godly,
spiritual and heavenly affairs, did not in any wise intermeddle
and cumber himself with any worldly matters, and least of all
with the King s great cumbersome matter of his marriage, or any
other of his public proceedings. Concerning the which marriage

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 137

he was not slenderly and hoverly 1 informed, but long, painfully
and deeply travailed, as appeareth by that we have already said,
and by his conference with such persons, and at such times, and
in such manner, as we have before declared. But farther also by
such conference as he had, as well and above all other, with
Doctor Wilson, being both twain in every point of one opinion
(for the which the said Doctor was sent to the Tower, albeit he
did afterward relent) as with the Archbishops of Canterbury and
York, and Doctor Nicholas, the Augustine friar. Howbeit,
finding in all this conference no substantial matter to remove him
from his first opinion, with most mildness and humility declared
the same to the King, adding that if he might have been able to
have done him service in that matter, he would have been more
glad than of all such worldly commodities as either he then had
or ever should come to, whose good mind in that behalf the King,
taking in good gree, 2 used in persecuting his great matter only
those whose conscience he perceived well and fully persuaded
upon that point.

After which time Sir Thomas More neither did any thing, nor
wrote word, to the impairing of the King s part. And though
himself were fixed and settled, as the event did shew, that neither
the King s fawning and flattering of the world upon him, nor yet
any adversity of imprisonment, could break his constancy, yet the
matter once passed by law, he did keep his conscience to himself,
and would not open his opinion in that matter, especially the
causes why he refused the oath, either to the Bishop of Rochester
demanding his judgment, either to Doctor Wilson requiring it at
his hand, as well before the said Doctor was imprisoned as after
wards, but did send him this word only, that he had quieted,
fixed and settled his conscience, and so he would they should do
theirs. And as for the causes of refusing the said oath, as no man
knew but himself, and were kept secret in his own conscience, so
(as himself writeth to the said Doctor Wilson) they were per
chance some other than those that other men would wean, such
as he never disclosed to any man, nor never intended to do whiles
he lived.

So much have I said, and the sooner, of his moderate and quiet

doings, because it hath been otherwise reported that he was a

busy-body, and that there ran a bruit 8 and report upon him that

he was about the making and devising, and meaned to divulge

1 slightly. 2 with goodwill. 8 rumour.

138 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

and publish in print, an answer to certain articles put forth by
the King and his Council, wherein he was most guiltless, and
purged himself thereof by his letters sent to Sir Thomas Cromwell.
The said marriage being thus passed, and the authority of the
Pope thereupon passing away withal, upon displeasure that he
would not pass, by sentence definitive, against the King s marriage
with Queen Catherine, there rose every day more and more some
quarrelling matter against Sir Thomas More. And albeit, as well
in his other offices as in the high office of the Lord Chancellor,
there were few or none that ever were farther from corruption,
oppression, extortion and bribery than this worthy man, that for
his integrity may be well compared with Fabricius and such other
noble Romans, yet, as the good king of the Lacedemonians, Agis,
was called to an account for his misruling and misgovernment,
whereas he most nobly and worthily governed the said common
wealth, or rather as Blessed St Job was falsely and wrongfully
noted of Eliphas for such matters, so was this innocent, good man
called to a reckoning before the King s Council as, forsooth, a
great briber and extortioner.

Accused of Corruption

He had made, being Lord Chancellor, a decree against one
Parnell, at the suit of one Vaughan, his adversary. This Parnell
complained most grievously to the King s Highness that, for
making of the same decree, he had of the same Vaughan, unable
for the gout to travel abroad himself, by the hands of his wife
taken a fair gilted cup for a bribe. Who thereupon, by the King s
appointment, being called before the whole Council (where that
matter was heinously laid to his charge) forthwith confessed that
forasmuch as that cup was long after the foresaid decree brought
him for a New Year s gift, he, at her importunate pressing upon
him therefore, of courtesy refused not to receive it. Then the Lord
of Wiltshire, for hatred of his religion preferrer * of this suit,
with much rejoicing said unto the Lords, *Lo, did not I tell you,
my Lords, that you should find this matter true? Whereupon Sir
Thomas More desired their Lordships that as they had cour
teously heard him tell the one part of his tale, so they would
vouchsafe of their honours indifferently to hear the other. After
which obtained, he farther declared unto them that, albeit he had
indeed with much work received that cup, yet immediately

1 instigator.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 139

thereupon he had caused his butler to fill it with wine, and of that
cup drank to her, and that when he had so done, and she pledged
him, then as freely as her husband had given it to him, gave he
the same to her again, to give unto her husband as his New
Year s gift, which, at his instant request, though much against
her will, at length yet she was fain to receive, as she herself and
certain other there presently before them deposed. Thus was this
great mountain turned scant to a little molehill.

So at another time, upon a New Year s day, there came unto
him one Mistress Crocker, a rich widow (for whom with no small
pain he had made a decree in the Chancery against the Lord of
Arundel) to present him with a pair of gloves, and forty pounds
of angels in them for a New Year s gift. Of whom he thankfully
receiving the gloves, but refusing the money, said unto her,
* Mistress, since it were against good manners to forsake a gentle
woman s New Year s gift, I am content to take your gloves, but
as for your money, I utterly refuse. So, much against her mind,
enforced he her to take her gold again.

And one Master Gresham likewise, having at the same time a
cause depending in the Chancery before him, sent him for a New
Year s gift a fair gilted cup, the fashion thereof he very well
liking, caused one of his own, though not in his fantasy of so
good a fashion, yet better in value, to be brought him out of his
chamber, which he willed the messenger in recompense to deliver
to his master, and under other condition would he in no wise
receive it.

Many things more of like effect, for the declaration of his
innocency and clearness from all corruption or evil affection,
could I here rehearse beside, which for tediousness omitting, I
refer to the readers, by these few fore remembered examples, with
their own judgments wisely to weigh and consider the same.

The Nun of Kent

But then was there a more grievous and dangerous quarrel
sought against him by reason of a certain Nun dwelling in
Canterbury, for her virtue and holiness among the people not a
little esteemed, unto whom, for that cause, many religious persons,
doctors of divinity and divers others of good worship of the laity
used to resort. Who, affirming that she had revelations from God
to give the King warning of his wicked life and of the abuse
of the sword and authority committed to him by God, and

140 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

understanding my Lord of Rochester, Bishop Fisher, being her
ordinary, to be a man of notable virtuous living and learning,
repaired to Rochester and there disclosed to him all her revela
tions, desiring his advice and counsel therein. Which the Bishop
perceiving might well stand with the laws of God and his Holy
Church, advised her (as she before had warning and intended) to
go to the King herself, and to let him understand the whole
circumstance thereof. Whereupon she went to the King, and told
him all her revelations, and so returned home again.

And in short space after, she, making a voyage to the Nuns of
Syon, by means of one Master Reynolds, a father of the same
house, there fortuned concerning such secrets as had been revealed
unto her (some part whereof seemed to touch the matter of the
King s Supremacy and marriage which shortly thereupon
followed) to enter into talk with Sir Thomas More, who, not
withstanding he might well at that time, without danger of any
law (thought after, as himself had prognosticated before, those
matters were established by statutes and confirmed by oaths)
freely and^safely have talked with her therein, nevertheless, in all
the communication between them (as in process it appeared) had
always so discreetly demeaned himself, that he deserved not to
be blamed, but contrariwise to be commended and praised.

Concerning the said Nun, Sir Thomas More at large to the
foresaid Sir Thomas Cromwell discourseth, and plainly shewetb
himself most innocent and far from all blame and sinister suspi
cion, as well in his doings with the said Nun as in all other his pro
ceedings, either touching the King s marriage or his Supremacy.
Yet all this notwithstanding, at the Parliament following
was there put into the Lords House a Bill to attaint the said Nun
and divers other religious persons of high treason, and the
Bishop of Rochester, Sir Thomas More and certain other of
misprision of treason, the King presupposing of likelihood that
this Bill would be to Sir Thomas More so troublous and terrible
that it would force him to relent and condescend to his request,
wherein His Grace was much deceived. To which Bill, Sir Thomas
More was a suitor personally to be received in his own defence
to make answer, but the King, not liking that, assigned the Bishop
of Canterbury, the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Norfolk and
Master Cromwell at a day and place appointed, to call Sir
Thomas More before them. At which time Master William Roper,
thinking that then he had a good opportunity, earnestly advised

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 141

him to labour unto those Lords for the help of his discharge out
of that Parliament Bill, who answered the said Master Roper he
would.

And at his coming before them according to their appoint
ment, they entertained him very friendly, willing him to sit down
with them, which in no wise he would. Then began the Lord
Chancellor to declare unto him how many ways the King had
shewed his love and favour towards him; how fain he would have
had him to continue in his office; how glad he would have been
to have heaped more benefits upon him; and finally, how he
could ask no worldly honour nor profit at His Highness s hands
that were likely to be denied him; hoping, by the declaration of
the King s kindness and affection towards him, to provoke him to
recompense His Grace with the like again, and unto those things
that the Parliament, the Bishops and the Universities had already
passed, to add his consent.

To this Sir Thomas More mildly made answer, saying, No
man living is there, my Lords, that would with better will do the
thing that should be acceptable to the King s Highness than I,
which must needs confess his manifold goodness and bountiful
benefits most benignly bestowed upon me; howbeit I verily hoped
that I should never have heard of this matter more, considering
that I have, from time to time, always from the beginning, so
plainly and truly declared my mind unto His Grace, which His
Highness to me ever seemed, like a most gracious Prince, very
well to accept, never minding, as he said, to molest me more
therewith. Since which time any further thing that was able
to move me to any change could I never find. And if I could,
there is none in all the world that would have been gladder of it
than I.

Many things more were there of like sort uttered on both
sides. But in the end, when they saw they could by no manner of
persuasion remove him from his former determination, then
began they more terribly to touch him, telling him that the King s
Highness had given them in commandment, if they could by no
gentleness win him, in his name with his great ingratitude to
charge him, that never was there servant to his sovereign so
villainous, nor subject to his Prince so traitorous as he. For he,
by his subtle sinister sleights most unnaturally procuring and
provoking him to set forth a book of The Assertion of the Seven
Sacraments and maintenance of the Pope s authority, had caused

142 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

him, to his dishonour throughout all Christendom, to put a
sword into the Pope s hands to fight against himself.

When they had thus laid forth all the terrors they could
imagine against him, *My Lords, quoth he, these terrors be
arguments for children, and not for me; but to answer that
wherewith you do chiefly burden me, I believe the King s High
ness of his honour will never lay that to my charge; for none is
there that can in that point say in mine excuse more than His
Highness himself, who right well knoweth that I was never pro
curer or councillor of His Majesty thereunto; but after it was
finished, by His Grace s appointment and consent of the makers
of the same, only a sorter out and placer of principal matters
therein contained. Wherein when I found the Pope s authority
highly advanced and with strong arguments mightily defended, I
said unto His Grace, "I must put Your Highness in remembrance
of one thing, and that is this. The Pope, as Your Grace knoweth,
is a Prince as you are, and in league with all other Christian
Princes. It may hereafter so fall out that Your Grace and he may
vary upon some points of the league, whereupon may grow
breach of amity and war between you both. I think it best there
fore that that place be amended, and his authority more slenderly
touched."

*"Nay," quoth His Grace, "that shall it not. We are so much
bounden to the See of Rome that we cannot do too much honour
to it."

Then did I further put him in remembrance of the Statute of
Praemunire, whereby a good part of the Pope s pastoral cure here
was pared away.

*To that answered His Highness, "Whatsoever impediment be
to the contrary, we will set forth that authority to the uttermost,
for we received from that See our Crown Imperial," which till His
Grace with his own mouth told it me, I never heard of before. So
that I trust, when His Grace shall be once truly informed of this,
and call to his gracious remembrance my doing in that behalf,
His Highness will never speak of it more, but clear me thoroughly
therein himself.

And thus displeasantly departed they.

Then took Sir Thomas More his boat towards his house at
Chelsea, wherein by the way he was very merry, and for that was
Master Roper nothing sorry, hoping that he had gotten himself
discharged out of the Parliament Bill. When he was landed and

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 143

come home, then walked he and Master William Roper alone into
the garden together, where the aforesaid Master Roper, desirous
to know how he had sped, said, I trust, Sir, that all is well
because you be so merry.

It is so indeed, son Roper, I thank God,* quoth he.

Are you then put out of the Parliament Bill?* said Master
William Roper.

*By my troth, son Roper, quoth he, I never remembered it.*

Never remembered it, Sir? said his son-in-law. *A case that
toucheth yourself so near, and us all for your sake. I am very sorry
to hear it, for I verily trusted, when I saw you so merry, that all
had been well.

Then said he, Wilt thou know, son Roper, why I was so
merry?*

That would I gladly, Sir, said he.

In good faith, I rejoiced, son, quoth he, *that I had given the
devil a foul fall, and that with those Lords I had gone so far as
without great shame I could never go back again/

At which words waxed Master Roper very sad, for though him
self liked it well, yet liked it him but a little.

Concerning the said Bill put into the Parliament against him,
he wrote a letter to the King. In the which, among other things
he writeth thus : * In this matter of the Nun of Canterbury, I have
unto your trusty Councillor Master Thomas Cromwell, by my
writing as plainly declared the truth as I possible can, which my
declaration of his duty toward Your Grace and his goodness
towards me he hath, I understand, declared unto Your Grace. In
any part of all which my dealing, whether any other man may
peradventure put any doubt, or move any scruple of suspicion,
that can I neither tell, nor lieth in my hand to let. But unto
myself it is not possible any part of my said demeanour to seem
evil, the very clearness of my own conscience knoweth in all the
matter my mind and intent so good. Wherefore, most Gracious
Sovereign, I never will, nor it can well become me, with Your
Highness to reason or argue the matter, but in my most humble
manner, prostrate at your gracious feet, I only beseech Your
Grace with your higji prudence and your accustomed goodness
consider and weigh the matter. And if that in your so doing, your
own virtuous mind shall give you that, notwithstanding the mani
fold and excellent goodness that Your Gracious Higjmess hath
by so many manner ways used unto me, I were a wretch of such

144 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

monstrous ingratitude as could with any of them all, or any other
person living, digress from my bounden duty of allegiance toward
Your Good Grace, then desire I no farther favour at your
gracious hand than the loss of all that ever I may lose, goods, lands,
liberty and finally my life withal, whereof the keeping of any part
unto myself could never do me pennyworth of pleasure, but only
should my comfort be, that after my short life and your long
(which with continual prosperity to God s pleasure Our Lord of
his mercy send you) I should once meet with Your Grace in
heaven, and there be merry with you, where among mine other
pleasures this should yet be one, that Your Grace should surely
see there then, that, howsoever you take me, I am your true
beadsman * now, and ever have been, and will be till I die,
howsoever your pleasure be to do by me.* And he desireth the
King afterwards that he would never suffer by the means of such
a Bill any man to take occasion afterwards to slander him.

* Which yet , saith he, * should be the peril of their own souls and
do themselves more hurt than me: which shall, I trust,* saith he,

* settle my heart, with your gracious favour, to depend upon the
comfort of the truth, and not upon the fallible opinion or soon
spoken words of light and soon changeable people.*

All this notwithstanding, and the report made by the Lord
Chancellor and the others to the King of all their whole discourse
had with Sir Thomas More, the King was so highly offended
with him that he plainly told them he was fully determined that
the aforesaid Parliament Bill should undoubtedly proceed forth
against him. To whom the Lord Chancellor and the rest of the
Lords said that they perceived the Lords of the Upper House so
precisely bent to hear him, in his own defence, make answer him
self, that if he were not put out of the Bill, it would without fail
be utterly an overthrow of all. But for all this, needs would the
King have his own will therein, or else, he said, that at the passing
thereof he would be personally present himself.

Then the Lord Audley and the rest, seeing him so vehemently
set thereupon, on their knees most humbly besought His Grace to
forbear the same, considering that if he should there in his own
presence receive an overthrow, it would not only encourage his
subjects ever after to condemn him, but also throughout Christen
dom redound to his dishonour for ever, adding thereunto that
they mistrusted not in time against hin> to find some other meet
1 one who prays for another.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 145

matter to serve his turn better, for in this cause of the Nun he was
accounted, they said, so innocent and clear, that for his dealing
therein men reckoned him far worthier of praise than reproof.
Whereupon at length, through their earnest persuasion, he was
content to condescend to their petition.

And hi the morrow after, Master Cromwell, meeting with
Master William Roper in the Parliament House, willed him to tell
his father that he was put out of the Parliament Bill, but because
he had appointed to dine that day in London, he sent the message
by his servant to his wife at Chelsea, whereof when she informed
her father, * In faith, Meg,* quoth he, * Quoddiffertur^ non aufertur.^

After this, as the Duke of Norfolk and Sir Thomas More
chanced to fall in familiar talk together, the Duke said unto him:

*By the Mass, Master More, it is perilous striving with Princes,
and therefore I would wish you somewhat to incline to the King s
pleasure, for by God s body, Master More, Indignatio principis
mors est. 9 2

Is that all, my Lord? quoth he. *Then in good faith is there
no more difference between your Grace and me but that I shall
die today and you tomorrow.

The Oath

So fell it out within a month or thereabouts after the making
of the Statute for the oath of the Supremacy and matrimony that
all the priests of London and Westminster, and no more temporal
man 3 but he, were sent for to appear at Lambeth before the
Bishop of Canterbury, the Lord Chancellor, and Secretary
Cromwell, Commissioners appointed there to tender the oath
unto them.

Then Sir Thomas More, as his accustomed manner was (as we
have declared) when he had any matter of weight in hand, went
to Church and was confessed, and heard Mass, and was housled, 4
in the morning early the selfsame day he was summoned to appear
before the Lords at Lambeth. And whereas he evermore used
before, at his departure from his wife and children, whom he
tenderly loved, to have them bring him to his boat, and there to
kiss them all and bid them farewell, then would he suffer none of
them forth of the gate to follow him, but pulled the wicket after

1 What is put off, is not laid aside.
8 The wrath of the prince is death.
8 layman.
4 received the Sacrament

146 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

him, and shut them all from him. And with an heavy heart, as by
his countenance it appeared, with Master William Roper and
their four servants took he his boat there toward Lambeth.
Wherein sitting still sadly awhile, at the last he suddenly rounded
Master William Roper in the ear, and said, Son Roper, I thank
our Lord the field is won. What he meant thereby Master Roper
then wist not, yet loath to seem ignorant, he answered, Sir, I am
thereof very glad.* But, as he conjectured afterwards, it was for
that the love he had to God wrought in him so effectually that it
conquered all his carnal affections utterly from his wife and
children, whom he most dearly loved.

The said Commissioners required him to take the oath lately
appointed by the Parliament for the Succession; te whom Sir
Thomas More answered that his purpose was not to put any fault
either in the Act or any man that made it, or in the oath or any
man that sware it, nor to condemn the conscience of any man.
*But as for myself, saith he, *my conscience so moveth me in the
matter, that though I would not deny to swear to the Succession,
yet unto that oath that there was offered me I cannot swear
without the hazarding of my soul to perpetual damnation. And
farther said that if they doubted whether he did refuse the oath
only for the grudge x of his conscience, or for any other fantasy,
he was ready therein to satisfy them by his oath. Which, if they
trusted not, what should they be the better to give him any oath?
And if they trusted that he would therein swear true, then trusted
he that of their goodness they would not move hin> to swear the
oath that they offered him, perceiving that for to swear it was
against his conscience.

Upon this they shewed him a roll wherein were the names of
the Lords and the Commons which at the determination and
ending of the said Parliament had sworn to the said Succession,
and subscribed their names. Which when they saw that notwith
standing Sir Thomas More still refused it, they commanded him
to go down to the garden.

In the meanwhile were there called in Doctor Wilson and all
the clergy of the City of London, which all received the oath
saving the said Doctor Wilson. Whereupon he was committed to
the Tower. And so was the good Bishop of Rochester, John
Fisher, that was called in before them that day, and refused the
aforesaid oath.

1 scruple.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 147

When they were gone, then was Sir Thomas More called up
again, and there was declared unto him what a number had sworn
even since he went aside, gladly without any sticking. And laid to
hun obstinacy, that he would neither take the oath, nor yet tell
the cause why he refused to swear, which, he said, he would do,
saving he feared that he should exasperate the King s displeasure
the more against him. And yet at length, when they pressed him,
he was content to open and disclose the said causes in writing
upon the King s gracious licence, or upon his commandment.
But it was answered that if the King would give licence, it would
not serve against the Statute. Whereupon Sir Thomas More by
and by inferred that seeing he could not declare the causes without
peril, then to leave them undeclared was no qbstinacy in him.

And whereas he said that he did not condemn the conscience
of other men, the Archbishop of Canterbury taking hold thereon,
said that it seemed by that the matter whereupon he stood was not
very sure and certain, and therefore he should therein obey his
Sovereign Lord and King, to whom he was certain he was bound
to obey. Sir Thomas More answered that he thought that was one
of the causes in which he was bound not to obey his Prince. And
if that reason may conclude, then have we a way to avoid all
perplexities, for in whatsoever matters the doctors stand in great
doubt, the King s commandment, given upon whether side he list,
assoileth l all the doubts.

When they could get none other answer of him, he was com
mitted to the custody of the Abbot of Westminster by the space
of four days, during the which time the King consulted with his
Council what order were meet to be taken with him. And albeit
in the beginning they were resolved that with an oath, not to
be known whether he had to the Supremacy been sworn, or what
he thought thereof, he should be discharged, yet did Queen Anne
by her importunate clamour so exasperate the King against him
that, contrary to his former resolution, he caused the said oath
of the Supremacy to be ministered unto him, who, albeit he made
a discreet qualified answer, nevertheless was forthwith committed
to the Tower.

The Tower

Whom, as he was going thitherward, wearing (as he commonly
did) a chain of gold about his neck, Sir Richard Cromwell, that

1 absolves.

LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

had the charge of his conveyance thither, advised him to send
home his chain to his wife or to some of his children. No, Sir,
quoth he, that I will not; for if I were taken in the field by mine
enemies, I would they should somewhat fare the better for me.

At whose landing Master Lieutenant at the Tower Gate was
ready to receive him, where the Porter demanded of him his upper
garment. Master Porter, said he, here it is, and took off his
cap, and delivered it to him, saying, I am sorry it is no better for
you. No, Sir, quoth the Porter, *I must have your gown.*

And so was he by Master Lieutenant conveyed to his lodging,
where he called unto him one John Wood, his own servant,
there appointed to attend upon him, who could neither write nor
read, and sware him before the Lieutenant that if he should hear
or see him at any time speak or write anything against the King,
the Council, or the state of the Realm, he should open it to the
Lieutenant, that the Lieutenant might incontinent reveal it to the
Council.

And not long after his coming to the Tower, he wrote certain
letters to his daughter, Mistress Margaret Roper, whereof one
was written with a coal.

And when he had remained in the Tower little more than a
month, Mistress Margaret, longing to see her father, by her
earnest suit at length got leave to go to him. At whose coining,
after the Seven Psalms and Litany said (which whensoever she
came to him, ere he fell in talk of any worldly matters, he used
customably to say with her) among other communication said
unto her, * I believe, Meg, that they that have put me here thought
to have done me a high displeasure. And then shewed her, as I
have somewhat shewed you before, that if it had not been for his
wife, for her and his other children, whom he accounted the chief
part of his charge, he would not have failed long ere that time to
have closed himself up in as strait a room, and a straiter too. But
I am come hither without my own desert, I trust , quoth he,
*that God of his goodness will discharge me of my care, and with
his gracious help supply my lack among you. And added, *I find
no cause, I thank God, Meg, to reckon myself in worse case here
than in mine own house, for me thinketh God maketh me a
wanton, and setteth me upon his lap and dandleth me.

Neither did he at any time after his imprisonment once pray
to God to bring him out of the same, or to deliver him from death,
but referred all things wholly unto his only pleasure, as to him that

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 149

saw better what was best for him than himself did. Yea, he would
say that the King, in taking from him his liberty, did him so great
good by the spiritual profit that he took thereby, that among all
the great benefits heaped upon him so thick, he received his
imprisonment even the very chief. And thus by his gracious
demeanour hi tribulation, it well appeared that all the troubles
that ever chanced to him, by his patient suffering thereof, were to
him no painful punishments, but of patience profitable exercises.
And so he was well content, and not only patiently but rejoic
ingly also, to bear the loss of his liberty and his close imprison
ment, so his heart, being lightened and strengthened by God, and
by the uprightness of his conscience, and the goodness of the
cause for which he was troubled, was in heart content to lose
goods, land and life too (as he afterwards did) rather than to do
anything against his conscience. And would say that what laws
soever they made, he was right assured that his conscience might
stand with his salvation, and that they could do him no hurt by
their law in the sight of God, howsoever it should seem in the
sight of men, but if they did him wrong, and that his case was like
to a riddle, so that he might lose his head and have no harm.

And thus being well and quietly settled in conscience, the
security and uprightness of the same so eased and minished 1 all
the griefs and pains of his imprisonment and all his other adver-
versity, that no token or signification of lamenting or sorrow
appeared in him, but that hi his communication with his daughter,
with the Lieutenant and other, he held on his old merry, pleasant
talk whensoever occasion served.

The which Lieutenant, on a certain time coming to his chamber
to visit him, rehearsed the benefits and friendship that he had
many ways received at his hands, and how much bounden he was
therefore friendly to entertain him and make him good cheer.
Which, since the case standing as it did he could not do without
the King s indignation, he trusted, he said, he would accept his
good will and such poor cheer as he had. Master Lieutenant,
quoth he again, I verily believe, as you may, you are my good
friend indeed, and would, as you say, with your best cheer
entertain me, for which I most heaxtily thank you. And assure
yourself, Master Lieutenant, I do not mislike my cheer, but
whensoever I so do, then you may thrust me out of your doors.*
After that now Sir Thomas More had been a good while in the
1 diminished.

I5O LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Tower, and not so restrained but that both his wife and daughter
might with licence repair to see him, he was, as we have said
before, suddenly shut up; where were it by this restraint the
sooner to draw him and cause him to incline to the King s
pleasure, or for such very plain words that he used to the Com
missioners, or that they intended to deal with him and others
more sharply and to make sharper laws as they did indeed the
Parliament next following, and as it was said indeed of some that
his obstinate manner, as they called it, in still refusing the oath
should peradventure force and drive the King to make a farther
and harder law for him. Which thing, when he heard, albeit he
thought that God of His goodness would not suffer such an
unlawful law to pass, yet was he pressed * and ready to abide all
extremities rather than to do anything contrary to his conscience,
not slightly and hoverly, 2 but after long and deep consideration
and study, informed, and would himself ever say that if he died
by such a law, he should die in that point innocent before God.

The Act of Supremacy

In the next Parliament was the aforesaid sharp law made that
was before feared and talked of > wherein the King was recognized
as the Supreme Head, under God, of the Church of England.
And it was ordained that whosoever should speak against the
said Supremacy he should be taken as a traitor.

After the making of which Statute, the world began to wax
more strait and rough towards Sir Thomas More and such other
as stood against the King s new Supremacy. And as besides his
old disease of his breast, he was now grieved in the reins by
reason of gravel and stone, and with the cramp that divers nights
gripped his legs, so daily more and more there grew towards him
many other causes of grief and sorrows, which all he did moderate
and temper with patient and spiritual consolation and comfort to
heavenward.

First then, after the making of the said Statute, Sir Thomas
Cromwell, then Secretary, resorted to him with the King s
Solicitor and certain other, and demanded of him what his
opinion and mind was touching the said Act, and would very fain
have wrung out somewhat at his hands, to say precisely the one
way or the other, but they could wring nothing from him.

Not long after came to him the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury,
1 prepared. a lightly.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIBLD 15!

the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of Wilt
shire and the Secretary, and began afresh to press and urge
him to some one certain, plain determinate and peremptory
answer touching his opinion of the lawfulness or unlawfulness of
the said Statute. They charged him with obstinacy and malignity
against the King, because he would not directly answer the
question. And the Lord Chancellor and the Secretary said that
the King might by his laws compel him to make a plain answer
thereto, either the one way or the other. Whereunto Sir Thomas
More answered that he would not dispute the King s authority
what His Highness might do in such a case, but he said that verily,
under correction, it seemed to him somewhat hard, For if it so
were that my conscience , saith he, gave me against the Statute
(wherein how my conscience giveth me I make no declaration)
then I, nothing doing nor nothing saying against the Statute, it
were a very hard thing to compel me to say either precisely with
it against my conscience to the loss of my soul, or precisely
against it to the destruction of my body.*

To this Master Secretary said that Sir Thomas More had ere
this, when he was Chancellor, examined heretics and thieves and
other malefactors and gave him great praise in that behalf. And
he said that Sir Thomas More, as he thought, and at the leastwise
Bishops, did use to examine heretics whether they believed the
Pope to be Head of the Church, and used to compel them to make
a precise answer thereto. And why should not the King, since it is
a law made here that His Grace is Head of the Church here,
compel men to answer precisely to the law here as they did then
concerning the Pope?

Sir Thomas More answered and said that he protested that he
intended not to defend his part, or stand in contention, but he
said there was a difference between those cases, because that at
that time as well here as elsewhere through the corps of Christen
dom, the Pope s power was recognized for an undoubted thing,
which seemeth not like a thing agreed in this Realm and the
contrary taken for truth in other Realms. Whereto Master
Secretary answered, that they were as well burned for the denying
of that as they be beheaded for the denying of this, and therefore
as good reason to compel them to make precise answer to the one
as to the other. Whereunto Sir Thomas More answered, that
since in this case a man is not by the law of one Realm so bound
in his conscience where there is a law of the whole corps of

152 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Christendom to the contrary in matter touching belief, as he is by
the law of the whole corps, though there hap to be made in some
place a law local to the contrary, the reasonableness or the
unreasonableness in binding a man to precise answer standeth not
in the respect or difference between heading and burning, but,
because of the difference in charge of conscience, the difference
standeth between heading and hell.

Among other things it was said to him that if he had as lief be
out of the world as be in it, as he had said, why did he not then
speak even plain out against the Statute? It appeareth well , said
they, *ye are not content to die, though ye say so. Whereunto
Sir Thomas More answered that he had not been any man of such
holy living as he might be bold to offer himself to death, lest God
for his presumption might suffer him to fall. Howbeit, if God drew
him to it Himself, then trusted he in His great mercy that He should
not fail to give him grace and strength.

Thus like a marvellous good and profound wise man Sir
Thomas More hitherto demeaned himself, occurring 1 as much as
might be to the sly, crafty drifts of his adversaries going about to
snare and entrap him, and to the malignity of the perverse time,
that as by no rightful law (nor perchance by their own law
neither) they could not justify his imprisonment at that time as
he was sent to the Tower, so notwithstanding their new law,
worse than the former, yet was there no matter, I will not say by
right and justice, but not so much as by their own unlawful and
unjust law, to be found in him, that his adversaries might with any
outward honest appearance have that they sought for, that was his
life and blood, or he had neither spoken nor done anything to
bring himself within the least compass and danger of the said law.

The Carthusians

For the withstanding of the which, about a two months before
Sir Thomas More suffered, the Prior of the Charterhouse of
London, the Priors of the Charterhouses of Beauvale and
Axholme, and Master Reynolds, a singular learned divine, well
seen in the Latin, Greek and Hebrew tongue, a virtuous and
religious father of Syon, and one Master John Hall, vicar of
Isleworth, were the 29th of April condemned of treason, and
executed the fourth day of May. Afterward the 19th of June were
there three other of the said Charterhouse of London hanged and

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 153

quartered, and eight or nine of the said house died by reason of
the closeness and filthiness of the prison in Newgate. The 22nd of
the said month the good learned Bishop of Rochester, Doctor
John Fisher, was beheaded for the same cause at the Tower Hill.
The foresaid Master Reynolds and the three persons of the
Charterhouse, Sir Thomas More, looking out of his window,
chanced to see going toward their execution, and longing in that
journey to have accompanied them, said to his daughter Mar
garet, then standing there beside him, *Lo, dost thou not see,
Meg, that these blessed fathers be now as cheerfully going to their
death as bridegrooms to their marriage? Wherefore hereby
mayest thou see, mine own good daughter, what a great difference
there is between such as have hi effect spent all their days in a
strait, hard, penitential and painful life religiously, and such as
have in the world, like worldly wretches (as thy poor father hath
done) consumed all their time in pleasure and ease licentiously.
For God, considering their long unpleasant life in most sore and
grievous penance, will not longer suffer them to remain here in
this vale of misery and iniquity, but speedily hence taketh them to
the fruition of his everlasting Deity, whereas thy silly father, Meg,
that like a most wicked caitiff hath passed forth the whole course
of his miserable life most sinfully, God, thinking not worthy so
soon to come to that eternal felicity, leaveth him here yet still in
the world, further to be plunged and turmoiled with misery/

Within a while after, Master Secretary, coming to him into the
Tower from the King, pretended much friendship towards him, and
for his comfort told him that the King s Highness was his good and
gracious Lord and minded not with any matter wherein he should
have any cause of scruple from thenceforth to trouble his conscience.

As soon as Master Secretary was gone, to express what com
fort he conceived of his words, he wrote with a coal (for ink then
had he none) these verses following:

Eye-flattering fortune, look thou never so fair,
Nor never so pleasantly begin to smile,
As though thou wouldst my rain all repair,
During my life thou shalt not me beguile.
Trust I shall, God, to enter, in a while,
His haven of heaven, sure and uniform;
Ever after this calm look I for a storm.

Yea, three years before this, he shewed a certain Lathi verse
that he elegantly made, but not yet printed, in which he properly

154 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

and wittily alluded to his name, that he had little hope of long
continuance in this transitory life, and how he prepared himself
to the other eternal and everlasting life.

Moraris si sit spes hie tibi longa morandi,
Hoc te vel Morus, More, monere potest.

Desine morari, et caelo meditare morari,
Hoc te vel Morus, More, monere potest.

Sir Richard Rich

Now albeit, as we have said, Sir Thomas More had neither in
speaking nor doing transgressed their new law of the Supremacy
(suppressing the open utterance of his judgment for such causes
as we have shewed), whether it were a set matter purposely and
for the nonce devised by one means or other to get and extort
from him a direct and precise answer, or whether the party of his
own head, to better his state and advance his estimation with the
Prince, wilfully sought the destruction of this worthy man, I
cannot certainly tell, but so it chanced that afterwards it was laid
against him that he had directly spoken words to the derogation
of the King s Supremacy, and that upon this pretence. Shortly
after that the said Lord Chancellor and others had been with him
in the Tower, as we have declared, one Master Rich, afterwards
Lord Rich, then newly made the King s Solicitor, Sir Richard
Southwell, and Master Palmer, servant to the Secretary, were
sent to Sir Thomas More into the Tower, to fetch away his books
from him.

And while Sir Richard Southwell and Master Palmer were busy
in the trussing up of his books, Master Rich, pretending friendly
talk with him, among other things of a set course, as it seemed,
said thus to Mm:

Forasmuch as it is well known, Master More, that you are a
man both wise and well learned, as well in the laws of this Realm
as otherwise, I pray you therefore, Sir, let me be so bold as of
good will to put unto you this case. Admit there were, Sir, quoth
he, an Act of Parliament that all the Realm should take me for
King, would you now, Master More,* quoth he, take me for
King?

Yes, Sir, quoth Sir Thomas More, that would I.

I put case further, quoth Master Rich, that were there an
Act of Parliament that all the Realm should take me for Pope,
would you not then, Master More, take me for Pope?

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 155

For answer, Sir, quoth Sir Thomas More, *to your first case,
the Parliament may well, Master Rich, meddle with the state of
temporal Princes, but to make answer to your other case, I will
put you this case. Suppose Parliament would make a law that
God should not be God, would you then, Master Rich, say that
God were not God?

No, Sir, quoth he, that I would not, since no Parliament
may make any such law.

No more , said Sir Thomas More (as Master Rich reported
him), * could the Parliament make the King Supreme Head of the
Church.*

Upon whose only report was Sir Thomas More indicted of
treason upon the Statute whereby it was made treason to deny
the King to be Supreme Head of the Church. Into which indict
ment were put these heinous words, * maliciously, traitorously
and diabolically . Many other things were contained in the said
indictment, as ye shall hereafter hear.

His Trial

Sir Thomas More being brought to Westminster Hall to his
arraignment at the King s Bench before fifteen Commissioners
appointed for that purpose, after that his indictment was read,
as well the Lord Chancellor as the Duke of Norfolk said to him,
Sir Thomas More, ye see that ye have heinously offended the
King s Majesty, howbeit we are in very good hope (such is his
great bounty, benignity and clemency) that if you will forethink
and repent yourself, if you will revoke and reform your wilful,
obstinate opinion that you have so wrongfully maintained and so
long dwelt in, that ye shall taste of his gracious pardon.*

My Lords,* quoth Sir Thomas More. I do most humbly thank
your Honours of your great good will towards me. Howbeit, I
make this my boon and petition unto God as heartily as I may,
that He will vouchsafe this my good, honest and upright mind to
nourish, maintain and uphold in me even to the last hour and
extreme moment that ever I shall live. Concerning now the
matters you ^charge and challenge me withal, the articles are so
prolix and long that I fear, what with my long imprisonment,
what for my long lingering disease, what for my present weakness
and debility, that neither my wit, nor my memory, nor yet my
voice, will serve to make so full, so effectual and sufficient answer
as the weight and importance of these matters doth crave.*

156 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

When he had thus spoken, sustaining his weak and feeble body
with a staff he had in his hand, commandment was given to bring
him a chair, wherein, being set, he commenced his answer much
after this sort and fashion:

* Touching the first article, wherein it is purposed that I, to
utter and shew my malice against the King and his late marriage,
have ever repined l and resisted the same, I can say nothing but
this; that of malice I never spake anything against it, and that
whatsoever I have spoken in that matter, I have none otherwise
spoken but according to my very mind, opinion and conscience.
In the which if I had not, for discharging of my conscience to God
and my duty to my Prince, done as I have done, I might well
account myself a naughty, unfaithful and disloyal subject. And
for this mine error (if I may call it an error, or if I have been
deceived therein) I have not gone scot free and untouched, my
goods and chattels being confiscate, and myself to perpetual prison
adjudged, where I have now been shut up about a fifteen months.

* Whereas now farther to this article is contained that I have
incurred the danger and penalty of the last Act of Parliament
made since I was imprisoned, touching the King s Supremacy,
and that I have as a rebel and traitor gone about to rob and spoil
the King of his due title and honour, and namely for that I am
challenged for that I would not answer Master Secretary and
others of the King s Privy Council, nor utter my mind unto them,
being demanded what I thought upon the said Statute, either in
liking or disliking, but this only, that I was a man dead and
mortified toward the world, and to the thinking upon any other
matters than upon the Passion of Christ and passing out of the
world; touching, I say, this challenge and accusation, I answer
that, for this my taciturnity and silence, neither your law nor any
law in the world is able justly and rightly to punish me, unless
you may besides lay to my charge either some word or some fact
in deed/

To this the King s Attorney occurring, 2 * Marry,* quoth he,
4 this very silence is a sure token and demonstration of a corrupt
and perverse nature, maligning and repining against the Statute;
yea, there is no true and faithful subject that being required of
his mind and opinion touching the said Statute that is not deeply
and utterly bound, without any dissimulation, to confess the
Statute to be good, just and lawful.

1 murmured against. * opposing.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 157

Truly, quoth Sir Thomas More, if the rule and maxim of
the civil law be good, allowable and sufficient, that Qui tacet,
consentire videtur (he that holdeth his peace seemeth to consent),
this my silence implieth and importeth rather a ratification and
confirmation than any condemnation of your Statute. For as for
that you said, that every good subject is obliged to answer and
confess, ye must understand that, in things touching conscience,
every true and good subject is more bound to have respect to his
said conscience and to his soul than to any other thing in all the
world besides, namely, when his conscience is in such a sort as
mine is, that is to say, where the person giveth no occasion of
slander, of tumult and sedition against his Prince, as it is with
me ; for I assure you that I have not hitherto to this hour disclosed
and opened my conscience and mind to any person living in all
the world.

The second Article did enforce also the foresaid accusation of
transgressing the foresaid last Statute touching the King s
Supremacy; for that Sir Thomas More (as it was pretended)
wrote divers letters to the Bishop of Rochester, willing him in no
wise to agree and condescend to the said Statute. Would God ,
quoth Sir Thomas More, that these letters were now produced
and openly read; but forasmuch as the said Bishop, as ye say,
hath burned them, I will not stick truly to utter myself, as shortly
as I may, the very tenor of the same. In one of them there was
nothing in the world contained but certain familiar talk and
recommendations, such as was seemly and agreeable to our long
and old acquaintance. In the other was contained my answer that
I made to the said Bishop, demanding of me what thing I
answered at my first examination in the Tower upon the said
Statute. Whereunto I answered nothing else but that I had
informed and settled my conscience, and that he should inform
and settle his. And other answer, upon the charge of my soul,
made I none. These are the tenors of my letters, upon which ye
can take no hold or handfast by your law to condemn me to
death.

After this answered he to the third article, wherein was laid to
his charge that, as such time as he was examined in the Tower, he
should answer that the Statute was like a two-edged sword, the
which if any man would keep and observe, he should thereby lose
his soul, and in case any man did not observe it, he should lose
his corporal life. The very same answer , said they, the Bishop

LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

of Rochester made, whereby it doth evidently appear that it was
a purposed and a set matter between you, by mutual conference
and agreement.

To this Sir Thomas More answered that he did not precisely,
but conditionally, answer, that in case the Statute were like to be
a double-edged sword, he could not tell in the world how a man
should demean and order himself but that he should fall into one
of the dangers. * Neither do I know what kind of answer the
Bishop of Rochester made; whose answer, if it were agreeable
and correspondent to mine, that hap happed l by reason of the
correspondence and conformity of our wits, learning and study,
not that any such thing was purposely concluded upon and
accorded betwixt us. Neither hath there at any time any word or
deed maliciously escaped or proceeded from me against your
Statute, albeit it may well be that my words might be wrongfully
and maliciously reported to the King s Majesty.

And thus did Sir Thomas More easily cut and shake off such
and like criminations, and among other things said that he would
upon the Indictment have abidden in law, but that thereby he
should have been driven to confess of himself the matter indeed,
that was denial of the King s Supremacy, which he protested was
untrue. Wherefore he thereto pleaded not guilty, and so reserved
to himself advantage to be taken of the body of the matter after
verdict to avoid the Indictment. And moreover added, that if
these only odious terms, * maliciously, traitorously and diabolic
ally , were put out of the Indictment, he saw therein nothing
justly to charge him.

Wherefore, for the last cast and refuge, to prove that Sir
Thomas More was guilty of this treason, Master Rich was called
for to give evidence to the jury upon his oath as he did. Against
whom thus sworn, Sir Thomas More began in this wise to say, * If
I were a man, my lords, that did not regard an oath, I needed not,
as it is well known in this place at this time nor in this case to
stand here as an accused person. And if this oath of yours, Master
Rich, be true, then pray I that I never see God in the face, which
I would not say, were it otherwise, to win the whole world. Then
recited he to the Court the discourse of all their communication
in the Tower, according to the truth, and said, In good faith,
Master Rich, I am sorrier for your perjury than for mine own
peril. And you shall understand that neither I, nor any man else
1 chance happened.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 159

to my knowledge, ever took you to be a man of such credit as in
any matter of importance I, or any other, would at any time
vouchsafe to communicate with you. And I, as you know, of no
small while have been acquainted with you and your conversation,
who have known you from your youth hitherto; for we long
dwelled both in one parish together, where, as yourself can well
tell (I am sorry you compel me so to say) you were esteemed very
light of your tongue, a common liar, a great dicer and of no
commendable fame. And so in your house at the Temple, where
hath been your chief bringing up, were you likewise accounted.
Can it therefore seem likely to your honourable Lordships
that I would, in so weighty a case, so unadvisedly overshoot
myself as to trust Master Rich (a man of me always reputed for
one of so little trust, as your Lordships have heard) so far above
my Sovereign Lord the King or any of his noble Councillors, that
I would unto him utter the secrets of my conscience touching the
King s Supremacy, the special point and only mark at my hands
so long sought for, a thing which I never did, nor never would,
after the Statute thereof made, reveal either to the King s High
ness himself or to any of his honourable Councillors, as it is not
unknown to your honours, at sundry several times sent from His
Grace s own person unto the Tower to me for none other pur
pose? Can this in your judgments, my lords, seem likely to be
true? And yet if I had so done indeed, my lords, as Master Rich
hath sworn, seeing it was spoken but in familiar secret talk,
nothing affirming, and only in putting cases, without other
displeasant circumstances, it cannot justly be taken to be spoken
maliciously, for where there is no malice, there can be no mali
cious offence. And never think, my lords, that so many worthy
Bishops, so many honourable personages, and so many other
worshipful, virtuous, wise and well learned men as at the making
of that law were in the Parliament assembled, ever meant to have
any man punished by death in whom there could be found no
malice, taking malitia for malevolentia\ for if malitia be generally
taken for sin. no man is there then that thereof can excuse him
self, Quia si dixerimus quod peccatum non habemus, nosmet ipsos
seducimus, et veritas in nobis non est?- And only this word
"maliciously" is in this Statute material, as this term "forcibly"
is in the Statute of forcible entry. By which Statute, if a man

* ,1 John i. 8 : If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the
truth is not in us.

160 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

enter peaceably and put not his adversary out forcibly, it is no
offence, but if he put him out forcibly, then by that Statute it is
an offence, and so shall he be punished by this term "forcibly".

Besides this, the manifold goodness of the King s Highness
himself, that hath been so many ways my singular good Lord and
Gracious Sovereign, that hath so dearly loved and trusted me
(even at my very first coming unto his noble service with the
dignity of his honourable Privy Council vouchsafing to admit me)
and to offices of great credit and worship most liberally advanced
me, and finally with that weighty room of His Grace s High
Chancellor (the like whereof he never did to temporal man before)
next to his own royal person the highest officer of this noble
Realm, so far above my merits or qualities able and meet there
fore of his incomparable benignity honoured and exalted me,
by the space of twenty years and more shewing his continual
favour towards me, and (until at mine own poor humble suit it
pleased His Highness, giving me licence with His Majesty s
favour to bestow the residue of my life for the provision of my
soul in the service of God, of his special goodness thereof to
discharge and disburden me) most benignly heaping honours
continually more and more upon me all this His Highness s
goodness, I say, so long thus bountifully extended towards me,
were in my mind, my lords, matter sufficient to convince this
slanderous surmise by this man so wrongfully imagined against
me.

Master Rich, seeing himself so disproved, and his credit so
foully defaced, caused Sir Richard Southwell and Master Palmer,
that at the time of their communication were in the chamber with
them, to be sworn, what words had passed betwixt them. Where
upon Master Palmer, upon his deposition, said that he was so
busy about the trussing up of Sir Thomas More s books in a sack,
that he took no heed to their talk. Sir Richard Southwell likewise,
upon his deposition, said that because he was appointed only to
look to the conveyance of his books, he gave no ear unto them.

After this there were many other reasons, not now in my
remembrance, by Sir Thomas More in his own defence alleged, to
the discredit of Master Rich s foresaid evidence, and proof of the
clearness of his own conscience. All which notwithstanding, the
jury found him guilty. And incontinent upon their verdict the
Lord Chancellor, for that matter chief commissioner, beginning
to proceed in judgment against him, Sir Thomas More said unto

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD l6l

him, * My lord, when I was toward the law, the manner in such
case was to ask the prisoner, before judgment, why judgment
should not be given against him. Whereupon the Lord Chan
cellor, staying his judgment, wherein he had partly proceeded,
demanded of him what he was able to say to the contrary; who
in this sort most humbly made answer:

His Defence

Seeing that I see ye are determined to condemn me (God
knoweth how) I will now in discharge of my conscience speak my
mind plainly and freely touching my Indictment and your Statute,
withal.

And forasmuch as this Indictment is grounded upon an Act
of Parliament directly repugnant to the laws of God and his
Holy Church, the supreme Government of which, or of any part
whereof, may no temporal Prince presume by any law to take
upon him, as rightfully belonging to the See of Rome, a spiritual
pre-eminence by the mouth of our Saviour himself, personally
present upon earth, only to St Peter and his successors, Bishops
of the same See, by special prerogative granted; it is therefore in
law, amongst Christian men, insufficient to charge any Christian
man/ And for proof thereof, like as many divers other reasons and
authorities he declared that this Realm, being but one member
and small part of the Church, might not make a particular law
disagreeable with the general law of Christ s Universal Catholic
Church, no more than the City of London, being but one poor
member in respect of the whole Realm, might make a law against
an Act of Parliament to bind the whole Realm. So further shewed
he that it was contrary both to the kws and statutes of our own
land yet unrepealed, as they might evidently perceive in Magna
Charta, Quod Anglicana ecclesia libera sit, et habeat jura sua
integra et libertates suas illaesas?- And also contrary to the sacred
oath which the King s Highness himself, and every other Christian
Prince always with great solemnity received at their coronations,
alleging, moreover, that no more might this Realm of England
refuse obedience to the See of Rome than might the child refuse
obedience to his own natural father. For as St Paul said of the
Corinthians, I have regenerated you, my children in Christ , so
might St Gregory, Pope of Rome, of whom by St Augustine his

1 That the English Church shall be free, and shall have its rights undimi-
nished and its liberties unimpaired. (First clause of the Charta.)
M 19

1 62 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

messenger, we first received the Christian faith, of us Englishmen
truly say, You are my children, because I have given you ever
lasting salvation, a far higher and better inheritance than any
carnal father can leave to his children, and by regeneration made
you my spiritual children in Christ.

Then was it by the Lord Chancellor thereunto answered that
seeing all the Bishops, Universities and best learned men of the
Realm had to this Act agreed, it was much marvel that he alone
against them all would so stiffly stick thereat, and so vehemently
argue there against. The which reason in effect the Bishop of
Westminster also made against him, when he appeared before the
Commissioners at Lambeth.

To this Sir Thomas More replied, saying that these seven
years seriously and earnestly he had beset his studies and cogita
tions upon this point chiefly, among other, of the Pope s authority.
Neither as yet*, said he, have I chanced upon any ancient writer
or doctor that so advanceth, as your Statute doth, the supremacy
of any secular and temporal Prince. If there were no more but
myself upon my side, and the whole Parliament upon the other,
I would be sore afraid to lean to mine own mind only against so
many. But if the number of Bishops and Universities be so
material as your Lordships seemeth to take it, then see I little
cause, my Lord, why that thing in my conscience should make
any change. For I nothing doubt but that, though not in this
Realm, yet in Christendom about, of these well learned Bishops
and virtuous men that are yet alive, they be not the fewer part
that are of my mind therein. But if I should speak of those that
are already dead, of whom many be now Holy Saints in heaven, I
am very sure it is the far greater part of them that, all the while
they lived, thought in this case that way that I think now, and
therefore am I not bounden, my Lord, to conform my conscience
to the Council of one Realm against the General Council of
Christendom. For of the aforesaid holy Bishops I have for every
Bishop of yours, above one hundred, and for one Council or
Parliament of yours (God knoweth what manner of one), I have
all the Councils made these thousand years. And for this one
kingdom, I have all other Christian Realms.

Then answered the Duke of Norfolk. We now plainly per
ceive that ye are maliciously bent. *Nay, nay, quoth Sir Thomas
More, very and pure necessity, for the discharge of my con
science, enforceth me to speak so much. Wherein I call and

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 163

appeal to God, whose only sight pierceth into the very depth
of man s heart, to be my witness. Howbeit, it is not for this
supremacy so much that ye seek my blood, as for that I would
not condescend to the marriage.*

When now, Sir Thomas More, for the avoiding of his Indict
ment, had taken as many exceptions as he thought meet, and
many more reasons than I can now remember alleged, the Lord
Chancellor, loath to have the burden of that judgment wholly to
depend upon himself, there openly asked the Lord FitzJames,
then Lord Chief Justice of the King s Bench, and joined in
Commission with him, whether this Indictment were sufficient or
not. Who, like a wise man, answered, *My lords all, by St Julian*
(that was ever his oath) I must needs confess that, if the Act of
Parliament be lawful, then the Indictment is good enough.
Whereupon the Lord Chancellor said to the rest of the lords,
*Lo, my lords, you hear what my Lord Chief Justice saith/ And
so immediately gave he judgment against him.

After which ended, the Commissioners yet further courteously
offered him, if he had anything else to allege for his defence, to
grant him favourable audience. Who answered, More have I not
to say, my lords, but that like the Blessed Apostle St Paul as we
read in the Acts of the Apostles, was present and consented to the
death of St Stephen, and kept their clothes that stoned him to
death, and yet be they now both twain Holy Saints hi heaven,
and shall continue there friends together for ever, so I verily
trust, and shall therefore right heartily pray, that though your
lordships have now here in earth been judges to my condemna
tion, we may hereafter in heaven merrily all meet together,
to our everlasting salvation. And thus I desire Almighty God to
preserve and defend the King s Majesty and to send him good
counsel.

Return to the Tower

Thus much now concerning his arraignment. After the which
he departed from the bar to the Tower again, led by Sir William
Kingston, a tall, strong and comely knight, Constable of the
Tower, and his very dear friend. Who, when they brought him
from Westminster to the Old Swan toward the Tower, there with
an heavy heart, the tears running down by his cheeks, bade him
farewell. Sir Thomas More, seeing him so sorry, comforted him
with as good words as he could, saying, Good Master Kingston,

1 64 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

trouble not yourself, but be of good cheer, for I will pray for you
and my good lady your wife, that we may meet in heaven together,
where we shall be merry for ever.*

Last Meeting with Margaret

When Sir Thomas More came from Westminster to the Tower-
ward again, his daughter, Master William Roper s wife, desirous
to see her father, whom she thought she should never see in this
world after, and also to have his final blessing, gave attendance
about the Tower Wharf, where she knew he should pass by,
before he should enter into the Tower, there tarrying for his
coming. Whom as soon as she saw, after his blessing upon her
knees reverently received, she hasting towards him, and without
consideration or care of herself pressing in among the midst of the
throng and company of the guard that with halberds and bills
went round about him, hastily ran to frim and there openly in the
sigftt of them all embraced him, took him about the neck, and
kissed him most lovingly. Who well liking her most natural and
dear daughterly affection towards him, gate her his fatherly
blessing and many godly words of comfort besides, telling her
that whatsoever he suffered, though he suffered as an innocent,
yet did he not suffer it without God s holy will and pleasure. * Ye
know*, quoth he, *the very bottom and secrets of my heart, and
ye have rather cause to congratulate and to rejoice for me that
God hath advanced me to this high honour, and vouchsafed to
make me worthy to spend my life for the defence and upholding
of virtue, justice and religion, than to be dismayed or to be
discomforted.

O noble and worthy voice of our noble, new, Christian
Socrates! The old Socrates, the excellent virtuous philosopher,
was also unjustly put to death; whom, when his wife, at that time
following, outrageously cried, * Shall such a good man be put to
death? Peace, good wife, quoth he, and content thyself; it is
far better for me to die a good and true man than as a wretched
malefactor to live.*

Well, to come to her again. This good, loving and tender
daughter, the jewel of the English matrons of our time, being at
length departed from her father, was not for all this satisfied with
the former sight of him, and like one that had forgotten herself,
being all ravished with entire love of her dear father, having
respect neither to herself nor to the press of the people and

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 165

multitude that were there about him, suddenly turned back
again, ran to him as before, took him about the neck, and divers
times together most lovingly kissed him, and at last, with a full
heavy heart, was fain to depart from him. The beholding whereof
was to many of them that were present thereat so lamentable that
it made them for very sorrow thereof to mourn and weep.

Yet for all this Sir Thomas More, as one quite mortified to
the world and all worldly and natural affections also, and wholly
affixed to heavenward, albeit he were a most loving, tender and
natural father to his children, and most dearly and tenderly
affectioned above all other to this his daughter, having now most
mightily subdued and conquered even nature itself for God s
sake, with whom he looked and longed every hour to be and
eternally to dwell with, neither fell to weeping, nor shewed any
token of grief or sorrow, nor once changed his countenance.

Soon after this Sir William Kingston, talking with Master
William Roper of Sir Thomas More, said, In good faith, Master
Roper, I was ashamed of myself that at my departing from your
father, I found my heart so feeble and his so strong, that he was
fain to comfort me, which should rather have comforted him.*

So remained Sir Thomas More in the Tower more than a
seven-night after his judgment, from whence, the day before he
suffered, he sent his shirt of hair (not willing to have it seen) to
Master William Roper s wife, his dearly beloved daughter, and a
letter written with a coal, plainly expressing the fervent desire he
had to suffer on the morrow, in these words following:

* I cumber you, good Margaret, much, but I would be sorry if
it should be any longer than tomorrow; for tomorrow is St
Thomas s Even, and the Utas 1 of St Peter, andtheref ore tomorrow
long I to go to God; it were a day very meet and convenient for
me. I never liked your manner towards me better than when you
kissed me last; for I like when daughterly love and dear charity
have no leisure to look to worldly courtesy, etc.

The Execution

And so upon the next morrow, being Tuesday, St Thomas s
Even, and the Utas of St Peter, in the year of our Lord 1535
(according as he in his letter the day before had wished), early in
the morning came to him Sir Thomas Pope, his singular friend,
on message from the King and his Council, that he should before

1 Octave.

1 66 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

nine of the clock the same morning suffer death, and that there
fore he should prepare himself thereto.

* Master Pope, quoth he, for your good tidings I most heartily
thank you. I have been always much bounden to the King s
Highness for the benefits and honours that he hath still from time
to time most bountifully heaped upon me, and yet more bounden
am I to His Grace for putting me unto this place, where I have
had convenient time and space to have remembrance of mine end.
And so help me God, most of all, Master Pope, am I bounden to
His Highness that it pleaseth him so shortly to rid me out of the
miseries of this wretched world, and therefore will I not fail
earnestly to pray for His Grace, both here, and also in another
world.

The King s pleasure is further , quoth Master Pope, that at
your execution you shall not use many words.

Master Pope, quoth he, you do well to give me warning of
His Grace s pleasure, for otherwise I had purposed at that time
somewhat to have spoken, but of no matter wherewith His
Grace, or any other, should have had cause to be offended.
Nevertheless, whatsoever I intended, I am ready obediently to
conform myself to His Grace s commandment. And I beseech
you, good Master Pope, to be a mean unto His Highness that my
daughter Margaret may be at my burial.

The King is content already , quoth Master Pope, that your
wife, children and other your friends shall have liberty to be
present thereat.*

Oh, how much beholden then , said Sir Thomas More, *ain I
to His Grace, that unto my poor burial vouchsafeth to have such
gracious consideration/

Wherewithal Master Pope, taking his leave of him, could not
refrain from weeping. Which Sir Thomas More perceiving,
comforted him in this wise, Quiet yourself, good Master Pope,
and be not discomforted, for I trust that we shall, once in heaven,
see each other full merrily, where we shall be sure to live and love
together, in joyful bliss eternal.*

Upon whose departure, Sir Thomas More, as one that had been
invited to some solemn feast, changed himself into his best
apparel; which Master Lieutenant espying, advised him to put it
off, saying that he that should have it was but a javel. 1 What
Master Lieutenant, quoth he, should I account him a javel that

1 low fellow.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 167

shall do me this day so singular a benefit? Nay, I assure you,
were it cloth of gold, I would account it well bestowed on him,
as St Cyprian did, who gave to his executioner thirty pieces of
gold. And albeit at length, through Master Lieutenant s impor
tunate persuasion, he altered his apparel, yet after the example of
that Holy Martyr Saint Cyprian, did he, of that little money that
was left him, send one angel of gold to his executioner, and so
was he by Master Lieutenant brought out of the Tower, and from
thence toward the place of execution.

When he was thus passing to his death, a certain woman called
to him at the Tower gate, beseeching him to notify and declare
that he had certain evidences of hers that were delivered to him
when he was in office, saying that after he was once apprehended,
she could not come by them, and that he would entreat that she
might recover her said evidences again, the loss of which would
import her utter undoing. Good woman, quoth he, content
thyself, and take patience a little while, for the King is so good
and gracious to me, that even within this half-hour he will dis
burden me of all worldly business, and help thee himself.*

When he was going up to the scaffold, which was so weak
that it was ready to fall, he said merrily to Master Lieutenant,
*I pray you, Master Lieutenant, see me safe up, and for my
coining down let me shift for myself/

Then desired he all the people thereabouts to pray for him,
and to bear witness with him that he should now there suffer
death in and for the faith of the Holy Catholic Church. Which
done, he kneeled down, and after his prayers said, turned to the
executioner, and with a cheerful countenance spake thus unto
him, * Pluck up thy spirits, man, and be not afraid to do thine
office; my neck is very short; take heed therefore thou strike not
awry, for saving of thine honesty.

So passed Sir Thomas More out of this world to God, upon
the very same day in which himself had most desired.

His Incomparable Worthiness

Ye now perchance, gentle reader, look that I should satisfy
and perform my promise, made you at the beginning of this
Treatise, of the incomparable worthiness of this man, and shew
some reasonable cause, as I promised, why that Sir Thomas More
did not pursue the life contemplative at the Charterhouse, or else
where, that he had for certain years so graciously commenced.

1 68 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Forsooth, this is now done already if ye have given a good and
vigilant eye and mind to all the premises, which yet, if they will
not fully satisfy your expectation in the generality, but that ye
expect some more and plainer particularities, we will now add
somewhat more for a surplusage.

Who is it then but this worthy man, for whose worthiness the
late noble and new Charlemagne, I mean Charles the Fifth, gave
out such a singular and exquisite testimony and praise? For when
intelligence came to him of Sir Thomas More s death, he sent for
Sir Thomas Elyot, our English Ambassador, and said to him,
My Lord Ambassador, we understand that the King, your
master, hath put his faithful servant and grave wise councillor,
Sir Thomas More, to death.

Whereunto Sir Thomas Elyot answered that he heard nothing
thereof,

Well, said the Emperor, it is too true. And this will we say,
that if we had been master of such a servant, of whose doings
ourself have had these many years no small experience, we would
rather have lost the best city of our dominions than have lost
such a worthy councillor.*

Who is it now but this worthy man, that was so exquisitely
learned as never any layman before since England was England?
Who is it but this worthy man, that, of all laymen that ever were
in this Realm, hath with his noble, learned books, and shall by
God s grace, do so much good as never hitherto did any layman
in England before? I intend to blemish and impair no man s
worthy credit, nor other men s beneficial acts to the common
wealth; I know full well that comparisons be odious, but yet I
trust I may, without any minishing l of any man s well deserved
praise, say that albeit there have been many noble and valiant
subjects of this Realm and renowned captains for their chivalry,
yet they drag all behind this our worthy captain. But if ye will
now marvel at this, and think that I do immoderately exceed and
pass my bounds, for that it is not known that ever he was in any
warlike expedition, and that, if it were so, that such notable and
singular exploits and feats as are pretended, it is most certain ye
will say, he never did, yet must I not for all this give over my
contention, since it is very true that there was never man in
England that so courageously and manly hath discomforted and
triumphed upon the most grievous enemies that ever this Realm
1 lessening.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD

had. Which my saying cannot seem to tend either to any untruth
or to the defacing of any noble captain s doings, if we grant, as
we must of fine force grant it, that the soul is incomparably above
the price and estimation of the body, and that to debell x many
soul enemies is a greater and more glorious conquest than to
debell many corporal enemies, and if we grant, as we must, that
it is a greater benefit to preserve and recover many souls that
either were perished and brought already in slavery, or like
wretchedly to have perished and to have been brougjit into the
devil s thraldom, than to preserve many men s bodies from peril,
danger and captivity, or to recover them from the same. This, if
we confess, and withal that there be no greater enemies in the
world to a commonwealth than wretched and desperate heretics
(as we must confess it by the main force of truth) then I trust no
man can deny but that of a layman. Sir Thomas More was the
most notable and valiant captain against these pestilent and
poisoned heretics (and most royally in his noble books conquered
them) that hitherto England bred, and that the doings of the
notable and worthy captains in martial exploits must yield and
give place to his worthiness.

Who is it then but this worthy man, of whom England hath had
for virtue, learning and integrity of life such a Councillor, such
a Lord Chancellor, as of a layman it had never before? Who was
it of whose wit John Colet, Dean of Paul s, a man of very sharp,
deep judgment, was wont to his familiar friends to say that all
England had but one wit, but of this worthy Sir Thomas More s
wit? Who was it now farther but this worthy man, that had such a
wit as England never had, nor never shall have? Which things not
only his books and the testimony of many learned and deep wise
men seem to confirm, but it is expressly and plainly written by the
great excellent clerk, Erasmus Roterodamus, of fine and excellent
wits a meet and convenient judge, as one that of all other, I
suppose, of our time, after this our worthy man, had himself a
most singular pregnant wit. The said Erasmus s words in Latin
are these: Cut pectus erat omni nive candidus; ingenutm quale
Anglia nee habuit unquam, nee habitura est; alioqui nequaquam
infelidum ingeniorwn parent 2

1 vanquish. . ,

* Whose soul was more pure than any snow, whose genius was such as

England never had and never shall have, mother of good wits though

England be.

I?0 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Ye will perchance now somewhat incline and bend (as there is
good cause) to my judgment. But yet if all this will not serve for
a sufficient proof of my censure 1 and asseveration of his peerless
worthiness, we shall add yet one other thing, but one such as shall
countervail not only any one thing, which we have spoken of his
worthiness, but rather counterpoise, yea, and overweight all that
ever we have spoken thereof. And that is, that he was the first of
any whatsoever layman in England that died a martyr for the
defence and preservation of the unity of the Catholic Church.
And that is his special peerless prerogative.

The Faith in England

And here, I pray thee, good reader, let us, being Englishmen,
consider this inestimable benefit of God effused and poured upon
us and this Realm, not slightly and hoverly, 2 but attentively and
deeply, as the greatness and worthiness thereof doth require of
us. And let us not be retchless, 8 unmindful and unthankful
persons to God. What country then was it of all the Provinces of
the Roman Empire that first publicly and openly, with their
people and their King received and embraced the Christian
Faith? Was it not the people of this our Britain with our blessed
King Lucius? And by whom was he christened but by Damianus
and Fugatius sent by Pope Eleutherius purposely at the suit of the
said Lucius to christen him and his people?

Well, what country was it that first forsook the unity and
faith of that See, and took the episcopal mitre and the ecclesi
astical supremacy from St Peter s own head, and put it upon
the head of King Henry the Eighth? Was it not the people of
England? When this foul Act was so passed, and that by authority
of a pretensed Parliament, God of His tender mercy did not so
give us over, but signified His disliking and high displeasure for
this outrageousness by His meet and apt legates and ambassadors,
not of one only sort, but of all degrees of the clergy, to add the
greater weight to this embassy. And lo, these ambassadors were
the Carthusians and the others we spake of. The Carthusians, I
say, men of so singular integrity and virtue, men of so hard and
so penitential and of so spiritual and so contemplative life, that
they might seem rather angels appearing in men s bodies than
very men. These persons, though they were all learned, especially
the said Master Reynolds, who was a profound, a deep and
1 opinion (not unfavourable). * lightly. reckless.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 1 71

exquisite divine, yet in case there should enter into any man a
fond and foolish imagination of defect of learning in them, or
that they were persons of too base and low degree for such an
embassy, lo, God provided for all such imaginative defect, and
sent with them such a colleague and Bishop as a man may doubt
whether all Europe had for all respects any one other bishop to
match him, I mean the blessed John Fisher, the good Bishop of
Rochester, whose singular virtue all England well knew, and
whose singular deep knowledge in divinity all the world knew, as
well the Protestants (who never durst answer to any of his books
made either against the Lutherans or against the Zwinglians) as
the King himself best of aU other, as the person that had before
openly confessed that the said Bishop was one of the best divines
in all Christendom.

And now because this unity is to be believed and confessed not
of the clergy only, but of all the laity beside, and lest, if per
chance any fond and peevish conceit shall creep into the head of
some light brain that the said persons might seem either partial
in the matter, as being all of the clergy, or that they might, if not
for lack of learning, yet by some simplicity of wit, be in this
matter craftily deceived and circumvented, behold the notable
supplement made by God of this our worthy layman also, such a
one that neither England, as I have said, nor, as I suppose, all
Christendom, had the like, even such as I have shewed you
already, such that was as meet to be ambassador for the laity as
was the good Bishop of Rochester for the clergy, such, I say, for
learning, that there was thereto nothing appertaining that he
could not reach to, such for the excellency and pregnancy of wit
that no crafty subtle dealing could entrap and snare him unawares,
but that he could soon espy and foresee the danger, such for his
virtue besides and devotion towards God, and of such integrity
of life and in all his doings, that God would not lightly of his
great mercy suffer him, in so great a point as this, to be deceived
and miscarried out of the right Catholic faith.

So then, as we were the first people that received the faith and
the Pope s Supremacy with common and public agreement, so
we were the first that with common consent and public law for
sook the unity of the Catholic Church, and gave the Pope s
spiritual Supremacy to a temporal King. For albeit the Grecians
long ago abandoned the See of Rome, and of late the Germans,
yet were they never so bad or mad as to attribute the said

172 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

Supremacy to any lay Prince, which both the Calvinists and the
Lutherans impugn. So God provided that even in this Realm also
should be those that should first of all people in the world confirm
and seal the unity of the said Church with their innocent blood.
Among whom of all laymen (for afterwards many other as well
of the clergy as the laity, especially one excellent learned man,
Master Germaine Gardiner, Secretary to my Lord Gardiner,
Bishop of Winchester, and should have been also for his gravity,
wisdom and learning Secretary to the King himself after the Lord
Wriothesley , died for the said unity) the very first was our worthy
Sir Thomas More. Which notable part to play, and to be therein
his messenger for the laity, it seemeth that God did purposely
choose and reserve him, though for tlie time he were propense x
and inclined to some liking towards a solitary and religious life.
This man is therefore our blessed Protomartyr of all the laity
for the preservation of the unity of Christ s Church, as he was
before a blessed and true confessor, in suffering imprisonment
and the loss of all his goods and yearly revenues, for withstanding
the King s new marriage, for the which matter, if he suffered
death, he had died, no doubt, an Holy Martyr. But yet, because
the Protestants think it great folly for him that he stood in the
matter, and that scripture could not bear him therein, and many
of the Catholics doubt, for lack of knowledge of the whole matter,
and being somewhat abused with English books made for the
defence of the new marriage, have not so good and worthy
estimation of his doings therein as they have for his doings
touching the Pope s Supremacy, wherein they are riper and more
fully instructed, I thought to have made in this treatise some
special discourse for the justification of Sir Thomas More s
doings concerning the said marriage. But forasmuch as this
Treatise of itself waxeth long enough, I will spare and forbear
that discourse here, and add it afterward in a special and peculiar
Treatise all alone by itself.

A Happy Martyr

To return therefore again to Sir Thomas More s death, let no
man be so wicked to think this to be no martyrdom in him, or so
unwise to make it more base than the martyrdom of those that
suffered because they would not deny and refuse the Holy Faith
of Christ. For this kind of martyrdom seemeth to be of no less

1 biased.

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 173

value, but rather of more, than the other, as the noble learned
Bishop and worthy confessor of God, Dionysius, the Bishop of
Alexandria, writeth, "That martyrdom , said he, 4 that a man
suffereth to preserve the unity of the Church, that it be not
broken and rented, is worthy in my judgment no less commenda
tion but rather more, than that martyrdom that a man suffereth
because he will not do sacrifice to idols. For in this case a man
dieth to save his own soul. In the other he dieth for the whole
Church.

He is therefore a blessed and happy martyr, and, craving leave
of the Blessed Martyrs St Thomas of Dover and St Thomas of
Canterbury, and speaking it without diminution or derogation
of their glorious death, a martyr in a cause that nearer toucheth
religion and the whole faith than doth the death of the other
twain.

The first was slain of the Frenchmen landing at Dover, in his
monastery, all his fellows being fled, which thing he could not be
persuaded to do. The cause was by reason he would not disclose
to them where the jewels and treasure of the monastery was, for
whom after his death God shewed many miracles.

The second is, and was ever, taken of the Church for a worthy
martyr, and even of King Henry the Second also, for whose
displeasure (though perchance not by his commandment) he was
slain, albeit we have of late (God illuminate our beetle 1 blind
hearts to see and repent our folly and impiety) unshrined him
and burned his holy bones. And not only unshrined htm and
unsancted him, but have made him also, after so many hundred
years, a traitor to the King that honoured him, as we have said,
as a Blessed Martyr, as did also his children and all other Kings
that afterwards succeeded him, even as they have taken up and
burned the bones of Blessed St Augustine our Apostle, who
brought the faith of Jesus Christ first into this Realm.

Yet, as I said, there is great odds in the cause of their martyr
dom. For though the King, for displeasure he bare to the Pope
for maintaining and defending St Thomas, did for a little while
abrogate the PopeVauthority, and went about before to cut off
and abridge some appeals wont to be made to the See of Rome
(wherein and for other things St Thomas refused to condescend
and agree to his proceedings) yet neither did the King take upon
him the Supremacy, nor did not in heart, but only for displeasure,
1 mentally blind as a beetle.

174 LIVES OF ST THOMAS MORE

mislike the Pope s Supremacy, and shortly restored the Pope to
his former authority, and revoked all his other misdoings. There
is therefore in Sir Thomas More a deeper cause of martyrdom
than in the other twain. Howbeit, as St Thomas of Canterbury and
he were of one and the selfsame Christian name, and as there was
great conformity in their birthplace at London, and that they
both were Chancellors of the Realm, and in that St Thomas of
Canterbury when his troubles began, coming to the King, carried
his Cross himself, not suffering his chaplain or any of the Bishops
that offered themselves to carry it, and in that Sir Thomas More
when his great troubles first grew on him, carried the Cross in
procession himself at Chelsea, the clerk being out of the way, and
that both ever after carried, though not the material Cross, yet
the very true Cross of Christ, by tribulation, to the time, and of
all at the time, of their glorious passion, and that there was a
conformity in that Sir Thomas More died according to his desire
on the eve of St Thomas of Canterbury, so was there great con
formity in the cause of their martyrdom. But some diversity
otherwise, as well in that we have shewed, as that St Thomas of
Canterbury, defending the dignity and privilege of the Church,
suffered without any condemnation or judgment, in his own
Cathedral Church, his holy consecrate head being there cloven in
pieces. Sir Thomas More was condemned in Westminster Hall
where he and his father before him had ministered justice most
uprightly to all manner of suitors, and where a few years before
there was such a praise, even by the King s commandment (as we
have shewed) given him, as lightly hath not been given before to
any other.

He was executed at the Tower, and his head (for defending the
right of the Church) by the King s commandment (who renting
the unity of the Church, and taking away St Peter s prerogative
and of his successors, had, as I may say, cut off St Peter s head,
and put it, an ugly sight to behold, upon his own shoulders)
pitifully cut off. And the said head, set upon London Bridge, in
the said City where he was born and brought up, upon an high
pole, among the heads of traitors, a rueful and a pitiful spectacle
for all good citizens and other good Christians, and much more
lamentable to see their Christian English Cicero s head in such
sort, than it was to the Romans to see the head of Marcus Tullius
Cicero set up in the same City and place where he had, by his great
eloquent orations, preserved many an innocent from imminent

NICHOLAS HARPSFIELD 175

danger and peril, and had preserved the whole City by his great
industry from the mischievous conspiracy of Cataline and his
seditious complices.

But yet Sir Thomas More s head had not so high a place upon
the pole as had his blessed soul among the celestial Holy Martyrs
in heaven. By whose hearty and devout intercession and his
foresaid comartyrs and of our Protomartyr St Alban, and other
Blessed Martyrs and Saints of the Realm, I doubt not but God
of late had the sooner cast his pitiful eye to reduce us again by his
blessed minister and Queen, Lady Mary, and by the noble,
virtuous, excellent prelate, Cardinal Pole, to the unity of tiie
Church that we had before abandoned. In the which God of his
great mercy long preserve the Realm.

Amen

EVERYMAN S LIBEAEY: A Selected List

BIOGRAPHY

Baxter, Richard (1615-91)

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF RICHARD BAXTER Ra

Boswell, James (1740-95) See Johnson
BrontS, Charlotte (1816-55)

Introdnction by May &ndmr (See also Fiction ) 318

LIFE 1828 By J G Lockhart (1794-1854) With Introduction by Prof James
d Tl788~1824) <*" ^ P etry and Drama > 156

LETTERS Edited by R G. Howarth, B LITT , and with an Introduction by Andri

* <* P 6try and Dralna 931

1898 (S " <*<> E8S ^ > 61

*

Cowper, William (1731-1800) Oi

SELECTED LETTERS Edited, wtth Introduction, by W. Hadley MA 774

Dlckona, Charts (1812-70) " "^ P etry and Drama >

LIFE, 1874 By John Forster (1812-76) Introduction by O E Ctiesterton. 2 Tola

Evelyn, John (1620-1706) <See abo Fl tl<m > 781 2

DIART Edited by William Bray, 1819 Intro byG^ W E Russell 2yols 220-1

Fox, George (1624-91)

JOURNAL, 1694 Revised by Norman Penney, with Account of Fox s last years
Introduction by Rufus M Jones 754

Franklm, Benjamin (1706-90)

AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 1817 With Introduction and Account ol Franklin s later life by
W Macdonald Reset new edition (1949), with a newly compiled Index. 316

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von (1749-1832)

LIFE, 1855 By G H Lewes (1817-78) Introduction by Havelock EUis Index.

TJT j r 11 ,-,0^ nx ( See also P e try and Drama ) 269

Hudson, William Henry (1841-1922)

FAR AWAY AND LONG AGO, 1918 Intro by John Galsworthy. 956

Johnson, Samuel (1709-84)

LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS, 1781. Introduction by MrsL Archer-Hind. 2 rols

(See also Essays, Fiction.) 770-1

BOSWELL S LIFE OF JOHNSON, 1791. A new edition (1949), with Introduction by
# C Roberts, M A , LL D , and a 30-page Index by Alan Dent 2 vols 1-2

Keats, John (1795-1821)

LIFE AND LETTERS, 1848 By Lord Houghton (1809-85). Introduction by Robert
Lynd Note on the letters by Lewis Gibbs (See also Poetry and Drama ) 801

Lamb, Charles (1775-1834)

LETTERS New edition (1945) arranged from the Complete Annotated Edition of the
Letters 2 vols (See also Essays and Belles-Lettres, Fiction ) 342-3

Napoleon Buonaparte (1769-1821)

HISTORY OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE, 1829 By J. G Lockhart (1794-1854) 3

(See also Essays and Belles-Lettres )

Nelson, Horatio, Viscount (1758-1805)

LIFE, 1813 By Robert Southey (1774-1843). (See also Essays ) 52

Outram, General Sir James (1803-63), the Bayard of India

LIFE, 1903 Deals with important passages in the history of India in the nineteenth
century By L J Trotter (1827-1912) 396

Pepys, Samuel (1633-1703)

DIARY Newly edited (1953), with modernized spelling, by John Wamngton, from
the edition of Mynors Bright (1875-9) 3 vols. 53-5

Plutarch (46?-120)

LIVES OF THE NOBLE GREEKS AND ROMANS Dryden s edition, 1683-6. Revised,
with Introduction, by A H Clough (1819-61) 3 vols 407-9

Rousseau, Jean Jacques (1712-78)

CONFESSIONS, 1782 2 vols Complete and unabridged English translation. New
Introduction by Prof. R. Niklaus, B A , PH.D , of Exeter University 859-60

(See also Essays, Theology and Philosophy )

Soott, Sir Walter (1771-1832)

LOOKHART S LIFE OF SOOTT An abridgement by J G Lockhart himself from the
original 7 volumes New Introduction by W M Parker t M A. 39

1

Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745) a ^ , a T ^ ,, xj ^

JOURNAL TO STELLA, 1710-13 Deciphered by ,7 It Moorhead Introduction by Sir
Walter Scott Sir Walter Scott s essay Swift, Stella and Vanessa is included 757

(See also Essays, Fiction )

Walpole, Horace (1717-97)

SELECTED LETTERS. Edited, with Introduction, by W. Hadley, M.A. 775

Wellington, Arthur Wellesley, Duke of (1769-1852).

LIFE, 1862. By O R Qleig (1796-1888) 341

CLASSICAL

Aeschylus (525-455 B O.)

PLAYS Translated into English Verse by O M Cookson New Introduction by
John Wamngton, and notes on each play 62

Aristophanes (450?~385?BO)

THE COMEDIES. Translated by J Hookham Frere, etc Edited, with Introduction,
by J. P Maine and J. H Frere 2 vols (Vol 1 temporarily out of print ) 516

Aristotle (384-322 B )

POLITICS and THE ATHENIAN CONSTITUTION Edited and translated by John
Wamngton 605

METAPHYSICS. Edited and translated by John Wamngton Introduction by Sir
JDamd Ross, K B E , M A , D LETT. 1000

Caesar, Julius (102 ?-44 B c )

WAR COMMENTARIES The Gallic Wars and The Civil War Newly translated
and edited by John Wamnotort, 702

Cicero, Marcus Tullius (106-43 B c )

THE OFFICES (translated by Thomas Cockman, 1699), LAELHJS, ON FRIENDSHIP,
CATO, ON OLD AGE, AND SELECT LETTERS (translated by W Melmoth, 1753) With
Note on Cicero s Character by De Quincey Introduction by John Wamngton 345

Demetrius (fl late first century A D ) (See under Aristotle )

Demosthenes (384-322 B o ) (See under Oratory, p 11 )

Epictetus (b c AD 60)

MORAL DISCOURSES THE ENCHIRDDION AND FRAGMENTS Translated by Elizabeth
Carter (1717-1806). Edited by W. H. D Rouse, M A 404

Euripides (484 1-407 BO).

PLAYS New Introduction by John Wamngton Translated by A. S, Way, D LITT
2 vols 63, 271

Herodotus (484 ?-425 ? B C )

HISTORY The History" deals with the period covering: tbe Persian invasion of
Greece, 492-480 B c Rawlinson s Translation, additional notes and Introduction,
by E a Blakeney 2 vols (Vol II temporarily out of print ) 405-6

Homer ( ? ninth century B c )

ILIAD New verse translation by S Andrew and Michael Oakley 453

ODYSSEY The new verse translation (first published 1953) by S O. Andrew
Introduction by John Wamngton 454

Juvenal (c AD 50-c 130)

SATIRES , with THE SATIRES OF PERSIUS Introduction by Prof H J Rose, M A ,
F B A WUliam Gifford Translation, 1802 Revised by John Wamngton. 997

Lucretius (c 99 ?-50 ? B c )

ON THE NATURE OF THINGS Metrical Translation by W E Leonard 750

Ovid (43 BO -AD 18)

SELECTED WORKS. Chosen by J" C and M J Thornton Selections from the
Metamorphoses, Heroical Epistles, the Festivals, the Ibis, and his epistles written in
exile also his Art of Love 955

Persms (34-62) -See Juvenal

Plato (427-347 B O )

THE REPUBLIC Translated, with an Introduction, by A D Lindsay, o B E , LL D
The greatest achievement of the Greek intellect in philosophy 64

SOORATTO DISCOURSES OF PLATO AND XENOPHON Introduction by A D Lindsay,

B.E , LL D 457

THE LAWS The last of Plato s dialogues is here printed in the A E Taylor (1869-
1945) Translation 275

Sophocles (496 ?-406 B C )

DRAMAS This volume contains the seven, surviving dramas. 114

Thucydides (c. 460-401 B c )

HISTORY OF THE PELOPONNESIAN WAR Translation by Richard Crawley Intro
duction by John Wamngton Index and five plans 455

Virgil (70-19 B )

AENEID Verse translation by Michael Oakley Introduction by S M Former 161
EOIOGUES AND GEORGics Vers e Translation by T F Roydt The Eclogues * wore
inspired by Theocritus , the Georgics describe a countryman s life 222

Xenophon (430 1-360 ? B.O ), (See under Plato.)

2

ESSAYS AND BELLES-LETTRES

Anthology OF ENGLISH PROSE, FROM BEDE TO STEVENSON AT*

Baoon, Francis, Lord Verulam (1561-1626) G76

pt 9 L 1626 ]Pffitou*to* b y OZtpfom* Smeaton Index of Quotations and

( * ee afe Theology and P^

Introduction ^ <*W Sampson 2 Tola 520-1

STORIES, ESSAYS AND POEMS Edited with Introduction by J B Morton o B E
S\ V ams e n W contalns a new selectlo & from the Sonnets" Verses and celebrated
Burke, l S?mund (1729-97) 948

REFLECTIONS ON THE REVOLUTION IN FRANCE (1790) AND OTHER ESSAYS Intro-

Cantnf Zln,^t e L b l T 92i) * e > M A <*" <* <***" > 60

; INVI8IBLE PLAYMATE, 1894, W. V., HER BOOK, 1896, and IN MEMORY OF

CarMeThomas (1795-1881)

ESSAYS Inttoduotion. by J. -R ZotoeZZ 2 vols Essays on men and affairs 703-4
PAST AND PRKHENT, 1843 New Introduction by Douglas Jerrold 60S

SARTOR RESARTUS, 1838, and HEROES AND HERO-WORSHIP 1841

Castfehone, Baldassare (H78-1529) (See ata> **"* 278

TK BOOK OF THE COURTIER, 1528 Sir Thomas Hoby s Translation, 1561 Intro
duction by W H D Rouse and Notes by Prof W B Drayton Henderson 807

Century A ONTURY OF ENGLISH ESSAYS, FROM CAXTON TO BELLOO 653

Chesterfield, Phihp Dormer Stanhope, Earl of (1694-1773)

LETTERS TO IITB SON, AND OTHERS Introduction by Prof R K Root 823

Chesterton, Gilbert Keith (1874-1936) ..**

STORTI,B, KHSAYS AND POEMS Introduction by Maisie Ward An omnibus* rolume
InchKlinff four Father Brown stories 913

Colerid&e, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834)

BIOCJRAPIIIA LITKRARIA, 1817 Edited with a new Introduction by George Watson,
M.A Ooleridgo described the work as sketches of my literary life and opinions * 11
SHAKESPEARIAN CRITICISM, 1849 Edited with a Ions Introduction by Prof
T, M Kauwr (1960), a distinguished Coleridge scholar of the University of
Nebraska 2 yols (See also Poetry and Drama ) 162, 183

De la Mare, Walter (1873-1956)

STORIKS, ESSAYS AND POEMS An anthology arranged by Mildred Bozman 940

De Quincey, Thomas (1785-1859)

GONI^MBHIONS OF AN ENGLISH OpnJM-EATER, 1822 Edited with Introduction by
Prof J K Jordan (1900) 223

Eckermann, Johann Peter (1792-1854)

CONVERSATIONS WITH GOETHE, 1836-8 Translated by John Oxenford, 1850
Edited by J K Moorhead, with Introduction by Havelock Ellis 851

(See also Poetry and Drama, Biography )

Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1803-82)

KS8AY8, 1841-4 New Introduction by Prof Sherman Paid 12

Florio, John (1553 1-1625) (See Montaigne )

Gilflllarx, George (1813-78)

A GALLERY OF LITKRARY PORTRAITS, 1845-54. 348

Gray, Thomas (1716-71)
EMBAYS (See Poetry )

Hamilton, Alexander (1757-1804), and Others

TIIK FEDERALIST, OR THHI NEW CONSTITUTION, 1787-8 Introduction by Prof W J
Ashley 519

Hazlitt, William (1778-1830)

LlSOTlTRKS ON THE ENGLISH COMIO WRITERS, 1819 , and MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS

Introduction by W E. Henley 411

LBJOTXTRICfl ON TUB ENGLISH POETS, 1818, and THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE, 1825

Introduction by Catherine M action aid Maclean, M A , D LITT , F R s L 459

THB ROUND TABLK and CHARACTERS OF SHAKESPEAR S PLAYS, 1817-18 New
Introduction by Catherine Macdonald Maclean 65

TABLB TALK, 1821-2, 1824 New Introduction by Catherine Macdonald Maclean

321
Holmes, Oliver Wendell (1809-94)

THB AtJTOOBAT OF THE BREAKF AST -TABLE, 1858. Introduction by Van Wyck
Brooks 66

SELECTED ESSAYS 78 essays with Introduction by J. B Pnestley 829

Huxley, Aldous Leonard (b 1894)

STORIES, ESSAYS AND POEMS 935

J h TOT l^TER (1 intro 8 duction by S. C. Roberta (See also Biography, Fiction ) 994

3

Lamb, Charles (1775-1834)

ESSAYS OP ELIA AND LAST ESSAYS OF ELIA, 1823-33 Introduction by -4itflrwsfa,
Birrell Includes the first and the last Essays of Eha 14

(See also Biography, Fiction )

Landor, Walter Savage (1775-1864) onj <epo JAV

IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS, AND POEMS, 1824-9, 1853 Edited, with Introduction,
by Havelock Ellis 890

Lawrence, David Herbert (1885-1930)

STOBIKS, ESSAYS AND POEMS Selected by Desmond Hawkins Poetry, Essays,
Travel Sketches and Letters 958

(See also Fiction )

AN ESSAY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, 1690 Abridged and edited by
Raymond WiUbum, presenting the whole sweep of the work 984

(See also Theology and Philosophy )

ESSAYS ON LIFE AND LITERATURE Introduction by Desmond MacCarthy 990

Macaulay, Thomas Babington, Lord (1800-59)

CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL ESSAYS, 1843 New Introduction by Douglas Jerrold
2 vols 225-6

MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS, 1823-59, LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME, 1842, and MISCEL
LANEOUS POEMS, 1812-47 Introduction by Prof O M Trevelyan, o M 439

(See also History )

Macniavelli, Nicool6 (1469-1527)

THE PRINCE, 1513 New Introduction by Prof. H Butterfleld, MA , HON D LITT
Translated by W K Marriott 280

Mazzmi, Joseph (1805-72)

THE DUTIES OF MAN (translated by Miss E Noyes), and OTHER ESSAYS New
Introduction by Dr Thomas Jones, o.H , LL D 224

Milton, John (1608-74)

PROSE WRITINGS Introduction by K M Burton, M A The contents of this volume
include Areopagitica, 1644, and other important prose works 795

Mitford, Mary Russell (1787-1855) (See aUo Poetry etc >

OUR VILLAGE, 1824-32 Edited, with an Introduction, by Sir John Squire. 927

Modern Humour An Anthology in Prose and Verse from over sixty authors 957

Montaigne, Michel de (1533-92)

ESSAYS, 1580-8 John Florio s version, 1603 Edited (from the third edition. 1632),
with Intro by A R Waller, 3 vols. (Vol I temporarily out of print ) 440-2

Napoleon Buonaparte (1769-1821)

LETTERS Some 300 of the most interesting of the Emperor s letters, chosen
and translated by J M Thompson, F B A , F R HIST s. (See also Biography ) 995

Nelson, Horatio, Viscount (1758-1805) ^ ^ x ni

NELSON S LETTERS Compiled by Geoffrey Rawson (See also Biography ) 244

Newman, John Henry (1801-90)

ON THE SCOPE AND NATURE OF UNIVERSITY EDUCATION , and CHRISTIANITY AND
SCIENTIFIC INVESTIGATION, 1852 Introduction by Wilfrid Ward 723

Po.. Edgar Allan (1809-49) * ate> T *" a * ttnd P^osopHy )

ESSAYS (See Poetry )

Quiller-Couch, Sir Arthur (1863-1944)

CAMBRIDGE LECTURES, from Q. s* well-known books The Art of Reading, 1920,
The Art of Writing, 1916 , Studies in Literature, 1918 , and Shakespeare s Workman
ship, 1918 (See also Fiction ) 974

Rousseau, Jean Jacques (1712-78) nf *^

SMILE , OR, EDUCATION Translated by Barbara Foxley, M A Intro (1955) by Prof
Andri Boutet de MonveL (See also Biography, Theology and Philosophy ) 518

SESAME, AND LILIES, 1864, THE Two PATHS, 1859 , and THE KING OF THE GOLDEN
KIVER, or THE BLACK BROTHERS, 1851 Introduction by Svr Oliver Lodge 219

THE SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE, 1849 With an introduction (1956) by Sir
Arnold Lunn Illustrated with 14 plates of engravings 207

Sevignd, Marie de Rabutin-Chantal, Marquise de (1626-96)

SELECTED LETTERS Selected and translated by H T. BarnweU, M A. 98

Spectator, The, 1711-14. By Joseph Addison (1672-1719), Sir Richard Steele (1672-
1729) and Others Edited by Prof Gregory Smith New Introduction by P Smithers,
D PHIL., M P , and a Biographical and General Index by Prof Gregory Smith Reset
with minor revisions, 1945 4 vols (See also Essays under Steele ) 164-7

Spencer, Herbert (1820-1903) m

ESSAYS ON EDUCATION, 1861 Introduction by O W Eliot 504

Steel*, Sir Richard (1672-1729).

THE TATLER, 1709-11 993

Sterne, Laurence (1713-68)

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY, 1768 , JOURNAL TO ELIZA,
written in 1787: and LETTERS TO ELIZA, 1766-7 Introduction by Daniel George

(See also Fiction ) 796
4

Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850-94)

VIBGINIBUS PUERISQUE, 1881, and FAMILIAR STUDIES OP MEN AND BOOKS, 1882

Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745) ( See also Fiction, Poetry and Drama, Travel ) 765

A TALE OF A TUB, 1704, THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS, 1704:

a* i951 <* ^h*

Thackeray, William Makepeace (1811-63)

THE KNOLWU HUMORISTS, 1851 ; OHABWY AND Hraiotra, 1853, aad

PEESENT - 1855

Tytier, Alexander Fraser (1747-1814)

ESSAY ON THE PRINCIPLES OF TBANSLATION, 1791 168

Walton, Izaafc (1593-1683) lb8

TUB COMPLETE ANGLER, 1653. Introduction by Andrew Lang. 70

FICTION
Atnsworth, William Harrison (1805-82)

OLD SAINT PAUL S, 1841. Introduction by W E. Axon, LL D Great Fire of London

ROOKWQOD, 1834 Introduction by Frank Swnnerton Dick Turpm 870

THE TOWER OF LONDON, 1840 Lady Jane Grey 400

WINDSOR CASTLE, 1843 Intro by Ernest Rhys Henry VIII and Ann Boleyn 709

American Short Stories of the Nineteenth Century Edited, with, an Introduction by
John Cournos Twenty stories from representative writers 840

Andersen, Hans Christian (1805-75)

FAIEY TALKS AND STORIKS This represents a completely new selection and in the
Reginald Spink Translation 4

Austen, Jane (1775-1817) Each rolume has an Introduction by 2? Bnmley Johnson
EMMA, 1810. 24 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, 1823 22

MANSFIELD PARK, 1814 23 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, 1811 21

NORTHANGEE ABBEY, 1818; and PERSUASION, 1818 25

Balzao, Honor6 de (1799-1850).

AT THK SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET, 1830, and OTHER STORIES Translated by
OZara Bell Introduction by George Saintsbury 349

EUGENIE GRANDET, 1834. Translated by Ellen Marriage New Introduction by
Prof Marcd Girard 169

OLD GORIOT, 1835 Translated by Ellen Marriage New Introduction by Prof
Marcel Girard 170

THE WILD Asia s SKIN, 1831. Ayouthmakes a bargain with destiny New Introduction
by Pro/ Marcel Girard 26

Barbusse, Henri (1874-1935).

UNDER FIRE, THE STORY OF A SQUAD, 1916. Introduction by Brian Rhys 798

Beaconsfield, Benjamin Disraeli* Earl of (1804-81)

CQNINQBRY, 1844 Introduction and Notes (with a Key to the Characters) by B N
Lanffdon-Davies 535

Bennett, Arnold (1867-1931).

THB OLD WIVES TALK, 1908 The most durable noyel of Bennett s. 919

Blaokmore, Richard Doddridge (1825-1900)

LORNA DOONE A ROMANCE OF KXMOOR, 1869 Introduction by Ernest Rhys 304

Borrow, George (1803-81)

THE ROMANY RYB, 1857 Practically a sequel to Lavengro (See also Travel ) 120

Bronte% Anne (1820-49).

THB TENANT OF WELDPBLL HALL and AGNES GREY With a new Introduction by
Margaret Lane. 685

Bronte, Charlotte (1816-55). For Mrs Gaskell s Life* see Biography.

JANK EYRK, 1847 Introduction by Margaret Lane 287

THE PROFESSOR, 1857 Introduction by Margaret Lane. 417

SHIRLKY, 1849 Introduction by Margaret Lane 288

VILLETT R . 1 8 5 3 Introduction by Margaret Lane. 351

Bronte 1 , Emily (1818-48)

WUTIIBBING HEIGHTS, 1848; and POEMS Introduction by Margaret Lane. 243

Burney, Fanny (Madame Frances d Arblay, 1753-1849)

EVELINA, 1778 Introduction by Lewis (hbbs oo*

BREWHON, 1872 (revised 1901); and EREWHON REVISITED, 1901 Introduction by

THE WAY OF ALL FLESH, 1903. Introduction by A. J H&ppe 895

5

Collins, Wilkte (1824-89)

TUB MOONSTONE, 1868 Introduction by Dorothy L layers 979

THE WOMAN IN WKITK, 1800. New Introduction by Maurice Richardson 464

Conrad, Joseph (1857-1924).

LORD JIM, 1900 Characteristically set In the Bast Indies Introduction by R B
Cunningham Graham 925

THE NIGGFR OF THE NARCISSUS/ 1897; TYPHOON, 1903, and THE SHADOW LINK,
1917 Introduction by A J. Uoppf Three of Conrad s best- known stories, 980
NOSTROMO, 1904 New edition of Conrad s greatest novel with an Introduction by
llix heard Uurle 38

Cooper, James Fenimore (1789~1851)

TUBS LAST OF THE MOHICANS, 1826, A NARRATIVES OF 1757. With an Introduction by
Ernest Rhys 79

THB PRA.IRXK, 1827 The last of the Leatheratocking Tales/ 172

Craik, Mrs See Mulock

Daudet, Alphonse Q 840-97)

TARTAHIN OF TAKASOQN. 1872; and TARTARXN ON TUB ALPH, 1885. Two light
episodic novels, some of the funniest episodes ever written in French. 423

Defoe, Daniel (1061 ?~1731).

THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANMRS, 1722 Introduction by
G A Aiiken One of Defoe s greatest books, famous for its picture of low life, 837
JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR, 1722 Introduction by G A Ailken 289

LIFE, ADVENTURES AND PIRACIES OF TIIK FAMOUS CAPTAIN WINCH-ETON, 1720
Introduction by Edward Garnett A suppOBOd record of a journey across Africa 74
ROBINSON CRUSOB, 1719. Parts 1 and 2 complete. Introduction by Guv N Pocock,

{# also Travel ) 59

De Rojas, Fernando (15th century)

CELESTINA* OR THE TRAGI-OOMKDY OF CALISTO AND MEUBIU, attributed to
Fernando do Rojas Translated, with an Introduction, by Phyllis Hartiwll, M A ,
L E8 L This Is a new translation (1958) 100

Dickens, Charles (1812-70) Each of the following volumes of Dickens e works has an
Introduction by O K. Chesterton

BARNABY KUDGK, 1841 76 LITTLTB BORRIT, 1857. 293

BLEAK HOXTSK, 1852-3 236 MARTIN Qnuzzuo WIT, 1843-4 241

CteifiTMA8 BOOKS, 1843-8 239 NICHOLAS NIOKLKBY, 1838-9, 238

OHRIHTMAS STORIES, 1850-67 414 OLD CURIOSITY Bttop, 1841 173

DAVID OopPKRFiMjLD, 1849-50 242 OLIVBR TWIST, 1838 233

DOMBEY ANI> SON, 1846-8 240 OUR MUTUAL FRIKNT>, 18R4-5. 294

GREAT EXPECTATIONS, 1861. 234 PICKWICK PAPBKB, 1830-7 235

HARD TIMES, 1854 292 A TALK OF Two Cmiw, 1859, 102

(/S y e! also Biography )

Disraeli, Benjamin. See Beaconsfleld.

Dostoyevsky, Fyodor (1821-81)

THE BEOTHBRH KABAMAKOV, 1879-80 Translated by Constance Garneti, Intro
duction by Kdwarcl Oarnett 2 vols 802-3
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, 1866 Constance Garnett translation, 501
THE IDIOT, 1873 Translated by Eva M Martin New Introduction by Richard
Curie 682
LETTERS FROM THK UNDERWORLD, ] 864 , and OTHER TALES (Tim OBNTLB MAXDVN .
THK LANDLADY) Translated, with Introduction, by O J Hoflarth. 654
POOE FOLK, 1845, and THE OAMBLKH, 1867 Translated, with Introduction, by
O / ffogatth 711
THE POH8KH8BD, 1871 Translated by Constance Garnett Introduction by Niffolay
Andreyev, PH D , M A 2 vols 861-2

Dumas, Alexandre (1802-70)

THE BLACK TULIP, 1850 The brothers De Witt in Holland, 1672-5 New Intro
duction by Prof Marrd Girmd* 174
COUNT OF MONTF OR INTO, 1844 2 vols Napoleon s later phase. New Introduction
by Prof Marcel (hrmd 393-4
MARaUKRiTB DB VALOIB, 1845 The Elvc of St Bartholomew 326
THB TIIRHK MUSKETBKRS, 1844 The France of Cardinal Richelieu 81
Du Maurier, George Louis Palmolla Bussou (1834-96).

TRILBY, 1894 Illustrated by th author Preface by Sir Gerald I)u Maurier. TnZ&i/
breathes the air of Paris in the eighties and is drawn largely from the author s own
experience 863

Edffeworth, Maria (1767-1849).

CASTLE EAOKRENT, 1800, and THE ABSBNTBB, 1812 Introduction by Pro/
Srander Matthews 410

Eliot, George (pseudonym of Mary Ann EJvans, 1819-80).
ADAM STOIC, 1859 "" ~ * " " " ~

, New Introduction by Robert $peaight 27

MJDDLEMAROH, 1872. New Introduction by Gerald Bullctt 2 vols 854-5

THB MILL ON THHJ FLOSS, 1860 Introduction by t$ir W Robertson Nimtt, 325

EOMOLA, 1863 Intro by Rudolph XHrcks The Florence of Savonarola 231

THE WEAVER OF RAVBILOB, 1861 Introduction by A Matheson 12

English Short Stories, Thirty-six selected stories from Middle Ages to present time
Introduction by Richard Wilson, B A , D LITT. present time.

FW man FiolSn (1707 ~" 54) Georae Samts bury has written an Introduction to the Eveiy-
AMIOJA, 1751. 2 vote. Amelia is drawn from Fielding s first wife 852-3

JONATHAN WILD, 1743. and JOURNAL OF A VOYAGE TO LISBON, 1755 Jonathan
Wild is a aatiro on false hero-worship, the Journal (published posthumously)
narrates the incidents of Fielding s last voyage BWIUUIUUSAJJ

JOSEPH ANDRKWB, 1 742 A skit on Richardson s Pamela 2fi7

TOM JONEB, 1749 2 vols The nrst great Knghsh novel of humour 35?-fi

Flaubert, Gustave (1821-80),

MAUAMM BOVAIIT, 1857 Translated by Eleanor Marx-Avehng Introduction bv
(ftoroe Sawtsbut i/ j-uuuvwim uy

SALAMMBO, 186 2 Translated by J O Chartres Introduction by Prof F C Green
M.A PII I) Tho war of the Mercenaries against Carthage 869

SENTIMENTAL EDUCATION, 1869 Modern translation, with Introduction and Notes
by A Hthon a (Mdsm ith 969

Forster, Edward Morgan (b 1879) Da

A PAflftAOK TO INMA, 1924 With an Introduction by Peter Burra 972

Galsworthy, John (l07-l33)

THK COUNTRY UOXWK 917

Gaskell, Mrs Elizabeth (1810-65)

OiiANFORD, 1B53 Introduction by Frank Smnnerton (See also Biography ) 83

Ghost Stories Introduction by John Hampden Eighteen stories 952

Gogol, Nikolay (1809-52)

DEAD Houta, 1842 Introduction by Nikolay Andreyev. PH D , M A 726

Goldsmith, Oliver (1728-74)

THK VICAR OF WAKIOTOTLD, 1766. Introduction by J M Dent

Gonohatov, Ivan (1812-91).

OBLOMOV, 1857. First complete English translation by Natalie Duddington New
Introduction by Nikolay Andreyev, PH D , M A 878

Gorky, Maxim (pseudonym of Alcscei Maximovitch Pieshkov, 1868-1936)

THROUGH XCUHHI \ Translated, with an Introduction, by C J Hogarth 741

Grossmith, George (1847-1912), and Weedon (1853-1919)

Tim DIARY OF A NOBODY, 1894 With Weedon Grossmith s illustrations 963

Hawthorn, Nathaniel (1804-64X

THE HOUBB OF THE SBSVKN GABLES, 1851 New Introduction by Prof Roy Harvey
Pflorce. 176

THK SCARLET LETTER. A KOMANOK, 1850 With new Introduction by Prof Roy
Harvey Pearce 122

TwiOK-Tou> TALKS, 1837-42 With a new Introduction by Prof Roy Harvey
Pearee 531

Hugo, Victor Mari (1802-85)

IJKB MJH^IUBLKH, 1862* Introduction by Denis Saurat 2 vols. 363-4

NOTRE DAMK iw, PARIB, 1831, Introduction by Denis Saurat 422

TOXLRRR OF TUB BfiA, 1866. Introduction by Ernest Rhys 509

Huxley, Aldous

&TQRIKH, EHRATB AND POEMS (See under Essays.)

James, Henry (1843-1916)

TH AMBAHHADOUH. 1903, Introduction by Frank Sunnnerton 987

THK TURN OF THK BOEHJW. 1898 , and THK ASPERN PAPERS, 1888 Two famous short
novels. Introduction by Prof Kenneth B Murdock, A M , PH D. 912

Jeff eries, Richard (1848-87). m ^ oaet T , , . 4

Amm LONDON, 1884; and AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR, 1886 Introduction by
Kwhard OarMit 951

Jerome, Jrome K. (1850-1927) f T . , . . . _. n

TtaiKB MKN IN A BOAT and THREE MEN ON THE BTJMMEL Introduction by D C

MA, B.LITT, 118

flETOWAl) Tine WAKW, 1866 Introduction by Ernest Rhys 296

WBBTWARD Hoi, 1855. Introduction by Dr J. A. Williamson, MA. 20

Lamb, Charlei (1775-1834), arid Mary (1764-1847)

TALES FROM BHAKKBFKARE, 1807 Illustrated by Arfhw Rackham

David Herbert (1885-1930).

. IJITK l^AOOCJK, 1911.

!N ( FxannuMAN, 1886 Translated by W. P. Barnes. 920

HANDY ANDY. 1842. Lover was a musician, portrait-painter, song-writer and actor

who also wrote four novels of which this is generally accounted the best. 178

Lytton, Edward Bulwer. Baron (1803-73) ftn

TnfcjjAOT DAYS OF POMPBH, 1834 A romance of the first century A D. 80

i,* Introduction by Prof. Erich Heller, PHD. 062
7

ManzonI, Alessandro (1785-1873)

THE BETROTHED (J Promessi Sposi, 1840, rev ed ) Translated (1951) from the
Italian by Archibald Colquhoun, who also adds a pieface 999

Marryat, Frederick (1792-1848)

MR MIDSHIPMAN EAST New Introduction by Oliver Warner 82

THE SETTLORS IN CANADA, 1844 Introduction by Ohver Warner 370

Maugham, W Somerset (6 1874)

CAKES AND ALE, 1930 The finest novel of the author s inter- war period. 932

Maupassant, Guy de (1850-93)

SHOBT STORIES Translated by Mar j one Laune Intro by Gerald Gould 907

Melville, Herman (1819-91)

MOBY DICK, 1851 Intro by Prof Sherman Paul 179

TYPES, 1846, and BILLY BUDD (published 1924) South Seas adventures New
Introduction by Milton R Stern. 180

Meredith, George (1828-1909)

THE ORDEAL OF RICHARD FEVEREL, 1859 Introduction by Robert ScncourL 916

Mickiewicz, Adam (1798-1855)

PAN TADEUSZ, 1834 Translated into English prose, with Introduction, by Prof
O R Noyes Poland s epic of Napoleonic wars 842

Modern Short Stones. Selected by John ffadfteld Twenty stories 954

Moore, George (1852-1933)

ESTHER WATERS, 1894 The story of Esther Waters, the servant girl who went
wrong Introduction by C D Medley 933

Mulock (Mrs Craik], Maria (1826-87)

JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN, 1856 Introduction by J. Shaylor 123

Pater, Walter (1839-94)

MARIUS THE EPICUREAN, 1885. Introduction by Osbert Burdett 903

Poe, Edgar Allan (1809-49)

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION. Introduction by Padraic Oolum 336

(See also Poetry and Drama )

Priestley, J. B (b 1894)

ANGEL PAVEMENT, 1931, A finely conceived novel of London, 938

Quiller-Couoh, Sir Arthur (1863-1944)

HETTY WESLEY, 1903 Introduction by the author (See also Essays ) 864

Radcliffe, Mrs Ann (1764-1823)

THE MYSTERIES OF UDOLPHO, 1794. Intro by R A, Freeman 2 vola 865-6

Reade, Charles (1814-84).

THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH, 1861 Introduction by Swinburne. 29

Richardson, Samuel (1689-1761)

PAMELA, 1740 Introduction by George Saintsbury 2 vola 683-4

CLARISSA, 1747-8 Introduction by Prof W L Phclps 4 vols 882-5

Russian Short Stories Translated, with Introduction, by Rochelle S Townsend Stories
by Pushkin, Gogol, Tolstoy, Koroionko, Ghehov, Ohirikov, Andreyev, Kuprin,
Gorky, Sologub 758

Scott. Sir Walter (1771-1832)

The following Waverley Novels each contain an Introduction, biographical and
bibliographical, based upon Lockhart s Life

THE ANTIQUARY, 1816 Introduction by W M Parker, MA 126

THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR, 1819 A romance of lite in East Lothian, 1695. New
Introduction by W M Parker, MA 129

GUY MANNERING, 1815 A mystery story of the time of George III New Intro
duction by W M. Parker, MA 133
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN, 1818 Period of the Portoous Blots, 1736 New Intro
duction by W M Parker, M A 134
IVANHOE, 1820 A romance of the days of Bichard I 16
KENILWORTH, 1821 The tragic story of Amy Robsart, in Elizabeth I s time New
Preface and Glossary by W M Parker, M A 135
OLD MORTALITY, 1817 Battle of Bothwell Bridge, 1679 New Introduction by
W M Parker, MA 137
QUENTIN DURWARD, 1823 A tale of adventures in flfteenth-centxiry Prance. New
Introduction by W M Parker, MA 140
BEDGAUNTLET, 1824 A tale of adventure in Cumberland, about 1763, New Intro
duction by W M Parker, M A 141
BOB ROY, 1818. A romance of the Rebellion of 1715 142
THE TALISMAN, 1825 Bichard Coeur-de-Lion and the Third Crusade, 1191 New
Preface by W M Parker, M A (See also Biography.) 144

Shohedrin (M E Saltykov, 1826-92).

THE GOLOVLYOV FAMILY Translated by Natalie Duddington Introduction by
Edward Qarnett 908

Shelley, Mary Wollstoneoraft (1797-1851)

FRANKENSTEIN, 1818 With Mary Shelley s own Preface 616

Shorter Novels.

Vol I ELIZABETHAN Introduction by George Samtobury and Notes by Philip
Henderson Contains Deloney a Jack of Newberie* and Thomas of Beading ,
Nashe a The Unfortunate Traveller ; Green s * Garde of Fancie. 824

VOL II SEVENTEENTH CENTURY Edited, with Introduction bvPMZi-n

3^>&^^-:%s^ J ^^ ] 8R*>

XJ5:fflS55R?.^S^ &$&!

- HeTuferson
Oroonoko

* uuunuju. jLviin-ivjuMi

Sienkiewioz, Henryk (1846-1916)

Quo VAT>ia? 1896 Translated

, ?8eS?l0?" 8 ~ 1M9)
*

p JKKYLL AND ME HYI>E, 1886, THE MBRRT MEN, 1887, WILL o THE MILL

S 1 - Om 1885 > THB TBM

TUB MABTWE OF BALLANTRAK, 1869 , WEIE OF HEBMISTQUT, 1896 New Introduction
by M H Ridley, fa*

ST IVEB. 1H98 Completed by Sir Arthur Quiller-Oouch Introduction (1958) by
JW JR /tlwf?/*

fRft TBLAKD, 1883, and KIDNAPPED, 1886 Introduction by Sir Arthur
^v. (ywcfc ,.., (Se aZso Essays, Poetry, Travel ) 763

Story Book for Boys and Girls Edited by Guy Pocock (1955) 934

Surtees f Robert Smith (1803-64)

JORROOKS S JAUNTS AND JOUJTIBS, 1838 817

Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745)

GXJLLIVKR B TRAVELS, 1726 An unabridged edition, with an Introduction by Sir
Harold Williams, P.B.A. , F 8 A , M A (See also Biography, Essays.) 60

Tales of Detection Introduction by Dorothy L. Sayers Nineteen stories, tracing the
development of the genuine detective story during the last hundred veara 928

Thackeray, William Makepeace (1811-63)

HENRY KHMONP, 1852 Introduction by Walter Jerrold 73

TH NKWCOMBfl, 1853-5. 2 vola Introduction by Walter Jerrold 465-6

PTONTDKNNIB, 184,8-50 2volg Introduction by M R Ridley, ML* 425-6

VANITY FAIR, 1847-8 Introduction by Hon Whitelaw Reid 298

TUB VIROINIANS, 1857-9.2 vola Introduction by Walter Jerrold 507-8

. _ . A n (See also Essays and Belles-Lettres.)

Tolstoy, Count Leo (1828-1910).

ANNA KARBNINA, 1873-7. Translated by RocheUe S Townsend With Introduction
by Nikalay Andreyev, PH D., M A 2 vols. 612-13

MAflTKR ANI> MAN, 195 and OTHER PARABLES AND TALES Introduction (1958)
"by Nikola^ Audrey mi, PH.B . M A 469

WAR AND PEAOB, 1804-9 Introduction by Ficomte de Vocnl6 3 vols 525-7

Trollop, Anthony (1815-82)

THIS WARDEN, 1855 The first of the Chronicles of Barset Introduction by
KathUm TiUoitson, M A , B LOT 182

BARCHISTBIR TOWERS, 1857. The second of the Chronicles of Barset. Introduction
(1950) on Anthony Trollope s Clergy by Michael Sadleir 30

DOCTOR THORNS, 1858. The third of the Chronicles of Barset 360

FRAMLRY PARSONAGE 1861. The fourth of the * Chronicles of Barset * Introduction
by JITa^lem ViUotaon. 181

Tira SMAtt TtoxTBB AT AIXINQTON, 1864, The fifth of the Chronicles of Barset/ 361
TUB LAST CHRONIOLB OP BARSBT, 1867. 2 vols 391-2

v, Ivan (1H18-83)

....ffiRR AKD SONS, 1862 Translated by Dr Avrd Pyman 742

SMOKE, 1867. A new translation, with Introduction, by Natalie Duddington 988
VIRGIN SOIL, 1877 Translated by Roch&lle S Townsend 528

Twain, Mark (pseudonym of Samuel Langhorne Clemens, 1835-1910)

TOM SAWTBR, 1876; and HUCKLEBERRY FINN, 1884 Introduction by Christopher
M&rlru 976

Verne, Jules (1828-1905) , ,

FIVJB WBRKS IN A BALLOON, 1862, translated by Arfhw Chambers, and AROUND
THB WORLD IN SIGBWY DAYS, translated by F. Desaae*. 779

TWKKTY TsowiAN LBAGUUS TJNIER THE SEA, 1869. 319

9

Voltaire, Francois Marie Arouet do (1694-1778)

CANDIDE, AND OTHER TALES Smollett s translation, edited by J. Ct. Thornton 936

, Hur

MB PKREIN AND MR TRAILL, 1911, oi
Wells, Herbert George (1866-1946)

ANN VERONICA, 1909 Introduction by A J Ztoppf 997

TH WHEELS OF CHANCES, 1890, and Tim Tiwra MAOHINK, 1895. 915

Wilde, Osoar.

THE PICTUBM OP DORIAN OKAY, 1891. (8e Poofcry and Drama )

Woolf, Virginia (1882-1941)

To THE LIGHTHOUSE, 1927, Introduction by JD. JUT. Itoewt, PH.D 949
Zola, fimile (1840-1902)

GERMINAL, 1885. Translated, with n Introduction, by Hawtodfe JBKKt. 897

HISTORY

Anrio-Saxon Chronicle. Translated and Kdited by G iV, Oarmanswav, F.B.HIBT soo
Foreword by Prof Bruce Difkvna, 624

Bede, the Venerable (673-735)

THE EOOLEHIAHTIOAL HiHTORY OF TUB HNQLIAH NATION TranHlntod by John
Stevens, roviHod by J A. GiU&, with notes by L C. Jane, Introduction by Prof.
David KnowteSj o B.B , M.A., LITT.D , F.B A. F S*A. 479

Carlyle, Thomas (1795-1881).

THB FRENOII KEVOLTJTION, 1837. Introduction by Xlilaire IMloc a vols. 31-2

(*s> ttl^o Biography. MflHayB )

Chesterton, Cecil (1879-1918) A HXSTQBY OFTMBJ TJ.B.A,, 1917, lOditod by Pro/. D. W
Brogan, MA 965

Creasy, Sir Edward (1 812-78)

FIFTEEN DHCTBIVB BATTLES OF Tine WOKLT>, WU>M MAIUTIION TO WATMIIMXK 1852.
With BiagrraniH and Index. Now Introduction by Audnfj/ Ihdtn. M,A (OXON.) 300

Oibbon, Edward (1737-94)

THB DIOOLINB ANB FALL or THE ROMAN EMPIEI, 1770 88 Notes by Oliphant
Smeaton Intro by Ghristophw Dawson, Complete text in 6 vole. 434 6, 474-0

Green, John Richard (1837-83)

A SHORT HISTORY OF TUBS ENGLISH PWOPLH, 1874, Introduction by L C Jane
English history from 607 to 1873. Continued by A PoHtlcal and Social Survey
from 1815 to 1915/ by & P. Farley, and rovtoou to 1950, 727-8

Holinshed, Raphael (d 1580?).

HOLXNSKBD 8 CHEONIOLB AS UHBT) IN SHAKffiSPBARB S PLAYS, 1578. Introduction by

Prof Allardyce JVtcoKand Josephine N%coll, 800

Joinville, Jean de. See Vlllohardouln.

Ltitzow, Count Franz von (1849-1916)

BOHEMIA AN HISTORICAL SKBTOH, 1 890. Introduction by President T. f. Mmaruk
H A Piehter oovew oyents from 1879 to 1938 432

Macaulay, Thomas Babington, Baron (1800-59).

THB HISTORY OF JMNOLAND, The complete text In four volumes, which together
contain 2,450 pages Introduction by Douglas JerroM. 34-7

Main., Sir H. M y (i8-88)

ANCIENT LAW, 1861 Introduction by Prof, J, H. Morgan, 734

Mommson, Theodor (1817-1903).

HISTORY ov KOME, 1856. Transktoa by W P. Dichmn, XA.JO, Introduction by

Bckoard A. Freeman. 4 vote (Yols, III and IV only.) 544-6

Motley, John (1814-77)

THB RIHB OF mm BUTCH KBPOTLIO, 1856. Intro, by F, B, Beynoto, & voln. 80-8
Paston Letters, The, 1418-1500, 2 vols. A selection. 752-3

Prescott, William HJckling (1790-1859).

HlSTOBY OF THE OONQXJBST OF MJSXIOO, 1843. 2 VOlfl, 397-8

Stanley, Arthur (1815-81),

LBOTUBBS ON THB HXSTOBY OF THBJ BABTBIW Ouvfton, 1801. Introciuotion by A. J
Gn&oe, M.A 251

Thierry, Aupistin (1795-1850).

THB NORMAN CoNQtriBST, 1825, Introduction by J. A. Ptlct, B,A. 2 vol, (Vol. I
temporarily out of print, ,) i g g-9

Villobardouin, Geoffrey de (11601-1213?). and, Joinville. Jean, Sir de (1224-1.117).
MEMOIRS QJF THB OBUSABES. Translated, with an Introduction, by Sir Wmnk T
Marziats. 333

Voltaire, Francois Marie Arouet de (1094-1778).

THJB Asm OF Louis XIV, 1751. Translation by Maviwn F, Poltaek.

($ee afao Fiction,) 780
10

ORATORY

Burke, Edmund (1729-97) 714

r. AnoU. Chronology ctJ^l^S^Ss^
POETRY AND DRAMA

POMPLKTK POKMB Introduction by R A Scott-James
Ballads, A Book of British. Introduction and Notes byJ

thosTofYwKdKiplfnf **"* Balta*

^ ttrwT tTlo^/,V.,. Jojjn /*""? n"-^ ** *

ontmy Hffi0ra8 * Kdlted with 8 P eoial Introduction, by Jlte Ptouwwm 792
POKMH OS><? Fiction )

Browning, Robert (1812-89)

P ?I M J! A1 J B P) ^T S 18??~* ^th w Introduction by John Sryson M A dealine-
with the > f otir-joliim Bveryman Browning set 2yola VolimwmVwntwSinJSS
wo ami toe #oo&, Browning s long dramatic poem (No. 502), is temporarSTut of
prniu. A.t 9

POKMB. 1871-90 Introduction by M M Bovman, 964

Burns, Robert (17fi9-96).

2SiS( ^ N ? ?? N iS2j A/ 61 ^^! ^icWon and a yery accurate text of Bnms s copious
lyrical output. Edited and introduced by Prof James Kinsley, M A , PH D 94

Byron, Gtorr* Gordon Noel, Lord (1788-1824)

Tim POETICAL AND DBAMATIC WOEKS 3 vols. Edited with a Preface by Guv Pocock

Century. A OENTOET o HXTMOROTO VKKSK, 1850-1950

(afreen> M A. B LETT.
Chaucer, Geoffrey (c. 1343-1400).

script*
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834).

Jim 3D1VINH OOMBBY, first printed 1472. H. F Gary s Translation, 1805-14
Edited, with Notes and Index, by Edmund Gardner. Foreword by Prof. Marw Praz

De la Mart, Walter (1873-1966). (See Essays ) 3 8

Donne, John (157S-1631).

CoKi Uora JPOKM8. Kdited, with a revised Intro., by Hugh PAnaon Fausset 867
Dryden, John (1031-1700).

POBMH Bditoti by Konomy Dobr6e, o B x., M A 910

EiKhtoonth-contury Playi Edited, by John Hamjpden. Includes Gay s * Beggar s Opera,

Addtoon*s ^Oato," Eow^ s Jane Shore, Fielding s * Tragedy of Tragedies, or, Tom

Thumb the Great/ LiUo s George Barnwell/ Oohnan and Garrick e Clandestine

K&rTiageV and Cumberland s west Indian 818

English Galaxy ol Shorter Poems, The Chosen and Edited by Gerald Bullett 959

English Religious Verse. Edited by <? Lacey May An anthology from the Middle Ages

to the prdHOut day, includinK some 300 poems by 150 authors 937

Everyman, and Medieval Miracle Plays. New edition edited by A. 0. Cawky, M A

PBJ>, forewords to individual plays, 381

Fit^erald, Edward (1800-83). Sec Peraion Poems.

11

Fletcher, John (1579-1625). See Beaumont.

Ford, John (1586-1639) See Webster.

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von (1749-1832)

FAITST. Both, patts of the tragedy which are the core of Goeth s life-work, in the
re-edited translation of Sir Theodore Martin (See also Biography, Itoaya ) 335

Golden Book of Modern English Poetry, The. Edited by Thomas Caldwdl and Philip
Henderson, containing: some 300 poems by 130 poets, from T E Brown to Stephen
Spender and C Day Lewis 921

Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics, The, 1861 Compiled by Francis Turner
Palgrave (1824-97) Enlarged edition, containing 88-page supplement 96

Golden Treasury of Longer Poems, The. Revised edition (1954) with new supplementary
poems An anthology ranging from Chaucer to Walter de la Mare, 746

Goldsmith, Oliver (1728-74)

POEMS AND PLAYS Edited, with Introduction, by Austin Dooson 415

(See also Fiction )

Gray, Thomas (1716-71)

POEMS WITH A SELECTION OF LETTERS AND ESSAYS Introduction by John Drink-
water, and biographical notes by Lewis Gibbs 628

Heine, Heinrich (c 1797-1856)

PROSE AND POETRY With Matthew Arnold s essay on Heine. 911

Ibsen, Hennk (1828-1906)

A DOLL S HOUSE, 1879, THE WILD DTTCK, 1884, and THE LADY FROM THE SIM
1888. Translated by 12 Farquharson Sharp and Elatwr Marx-Avehnff 494

GHOSTS, 1881, THE WARRIOHH AT HMLGKLAND, 18,37; and AN ENBMY OF win,
PEOPLE, 1882 Translated by It Fargpiharson Sharp 552

PEER GYNT, 1867 Translated by R Farcruharson Sharp. 747

THE PRETENDERS, 1864, PILLARB OP SOCIETY, 1877, and ROSMKRSHOLM, 1887
Translated by R Farquharson Sharp 659

Ingoldsby Legends, or Mirth and Marvels, by Thomas Ingoldsby, Eea/ Edited by
D C Browning, M A , B UTT 185

International Modern Plays August Strlndberg s Lady Julio/ Gerhard Hnuptmann s
Hannele/ Brothers Ctipek s The Life of the Insects, Joan Gootoau 8 The Infernal
Machine, and Luigi Cmarelli s The Mask and the Face Introduction by Anthony
Dent 989

Jonson, Ben (1573-1637)

PLAYS Introduction by Prof. F E, Schelhng, 2 vols, Oomploto collection. 489-90

Keats, John (1795-1821)

POEMS, Revised, reset edition (1944) Edited by Gerald ttullett 101

(See also Biography )

Kingsley, Charles (1819-75)

POEMS With Introduction by Ernest Rhys. (See also Fiction ) 793

La Fontaine, Jean de (1021-95)

FABLES, 1668, Presented complete in the renowned Sir Edward Marsh translation

991

Langland, William 1 (1330 1-1400 ?)

PIERS PLOWMAN, 1362 Tianslation into modern English by Donald and Rachel
Attwater 571

Lawrence. David Herbert (1885-1930) (See Essays )

Leasing, Gotthold Ephraim (1729-81)

LAOOO^N, 1766, AND OTHER WRITINGS Introduction by W A SteeL Contents 1
LaocoSn , Minna von Bamhelm/ 1767, a comedy in nv acts; and Nathan the
Wise, 1779, his philosophical drama 843

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth (1807-82)

POEMS, 1823-66 382

Marlowe, Christopher (1564-93)

PLAYS AND POJSMH New edition with an Introduction by M* R. RidUy, M A 383

Milton, John (1608-74)

POEMS New edition by Prof D A Wright, M.A., based on Milton M editions and
mamiseripte. With a new Introduction by Prof Wriyltt (See afao KHHayfl.) 384

Minor Elizabethan Drama. 2 vols. Vol. I. Tragedy Norton and Hackvillo H * Gorboduo,
Kyd s Spanish Tragedy,* Peele s David and Bethaabe/ and Arden of Fevewham
Vol II Comedy Udall s Ralph Roister Dotster/ Lyly s * Kadlmion/ Peolo s Old
Wives Tale/ Greene s Friar Bacon and Friar Butigay, etc. Introduction by Prof
A Thorndike Glossary 491-2

Minor Poets of the Seventeenth Century. The Poomn of Thomas Oarow, Sir John Buck
ling, Lord Herbert, Richard Lovelace Edited and revised by R, (t. Howarth, B.A ,

B UTT , F E,8 L 873

Modern Plays R 0. SherrifFs Journey s End, 1 W Somerset Manph&nx ft * For Services
Rendered, 1 Noel Coward s *Hay Fover/ A A Milna s The Dover "Road/ Arnold
Bennett and Edward Knoblock y s Milestones Introduction by John //a4/W<& 042

Moliere, Jean Baptisto de (1622-73).

OOMEBIBS Introduction by Prof F, O Green. 2 vols, 880-1

New Golden Treasury, Th. Introduction by Krnest Rhys A companion to Palgrave
(QL.V ) giving earner lyrics than he did, and also later* 695

Omar Khayy&m (d 1123?). (See under Persian Poems.)

12

F The* 8 TU r (182 *~ 97) See CtoMtea Treasury of English Songs and

d 6 J88^lSo9^ d 6dit6d ^ *** A J ^^ M A , LITT D , P . B A. igg

ii^il^i^f)- D B - B Nearly 40 poems by a

COLLECTED POEMS Edited with Intro. (1956) by Prof Bonamy Dobrte, o B a,, M A

760

Etheroge s " Man of Mode

Rossotti, Dante Gabriel (1828-82).

POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS Introduction by E, G. Gardner. 627

Shakespeare, William (1564-1616) w*ror*cr. *>i

A Complete Edition, based on Clark and Wright s Cambridge text, and edited by
OUjphant Smeaton With biographical Introduction, Chronological Tables and full
Glossary. 3 vols

^ to _, ?>dies, 153. Histories, Poems and Sonnets, 154, Tragedies, 155

Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

POETICAL WORKS Introduction by A R* Koszul 2 vols 257-8

Sheridan, Richard Brinsley (1751-1816)

COMPLETE PLAYS. Introduction and notes by Lewis Gibbs 95

Silver Poets of the Sixteenth Century. Edited by Gerald Bullett The works of Sir Thomas
Wyatt (1503-42), Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517 ?-47), Sir Philip Sidney
(1554-86), Sir Walter Ralegh (155&-1618) and Sir John Davies (1569-1626 ) 985

Spenser, Edmund (1552-99),

THE FAKRIE QTJKENE Introduction by Prof J W Hales, and Glossary 2 vols
The reliable Morris text and glossary are used for this edition 443-4

THE BHKPHBRD S CALENDAR, 1579, and OTHER POEMS Introduction by Philip
Henderson 879

Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850-94)

POEMS A CHILD S GARDEN OF VERSES, 1885, UNDERWOODS, 1887, SONGS OF
TRAVEL, 1896 ; and BALLADS, 1890 , Introduction by Ernest Rhys 768

(See also Essays, Fiction, Travel.)

Swinburne, Algernon Charles (1837-1909).

POEMS AND PROSE A selection, edited with an Intro by Richard Church. 961

Synfe, J M. (1871-1909)

PLAYS, POIQMS AND PROSE Introduction by Michael. Mac Liammdir. 968

Tohekhov, Anton (1860-1904).

PLAYS AND STORIES The Cherry Orchard, The Seagull, The Wood Demon,
Tatyana Riopin and On the Haxmfulness of Tobacco are included, as well as
13 of his best stories The translation is by S S Koteliansky Introduction by
DainA Magarshack 941

Tennyson, Alfred, Lord (1809-92)

POEMS. A comprehensive edition (1950), with an Introduction by Mildred Bozman
2 volH 44, 626

Twenty-four One-Act Plays. Enlarged edition, new Introduction by John Hampden*
Contains plays by T S Eliot, Sean Casey, Laurence Housman, W B. Yeats,
James Bridie, Noel Coward, Lord Dunsany, Wolf Mankowitz and others 947

Webster, John (1580 ?-1625?), and Ford, John (1586-1639)

SKLEGTKD PLAYS Introduction by Prof. G. B Harrison, M A , PH D In one volume -
The White Devil, The Duchess of Main,* The Broken Heart, "Tis Pity She s a
Whore 899

Whitman, Walt (1819-92)

LEAVES OF GRASS, 1855-92 New edition (1947) by Dr Emory HoUoway. 573

Wilde, Osear (1854-1900) , ^

PLAYS, PROSE WRITINGS, AND POEMS. Edited, with Introduction, by Heskefft
Pearson Including the two plays, The Importance of Being Earnest* and Lady
Windermer s Fan*, his novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray , the poem, *The
Ballad of Reading Gaol , the essay, The Soul of Man, etc 858

Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

POEMS. Edited, with Introductory study, notes, bibliography and full index, by
Philip Wayne, MA. 203, 311, 998

REFERENCE

Reader s Guide to Everyman s Library Compiled by A J Hoppe* This volume Is a new
compilation and gives in one alphabetical sequence the names of all the autnors,
titles and subjects in Everyman s Library and its supplementary senes, Every
man s Reference Library and the Children s Illustrated Classics. 889
M any volumes formerly included in Everyman s Library reference section care now
included in Everyman s Reference Library and are bound in larger format.

13

ROMANCE

Aucassin and Nicolette, with other Medieval Romances. Translated, with Introduction,
by Eu0ene MO&OH 497

Boccaccio, Giovanni (1313-75)

DECAMERON. 1471. Translated toy J. M RIQQ, 1903. Introduction by Edward
Hutton, 2 vols Unabiidged. 845-6

Bunyan, John (1628-88)

PILGRIM S PROGRESS, Parts I andi II, 1678-84. Reset edition Introdxiction by Prof
O B Harrison, M A , PH.D (See also Theology and Philosophy ) 204

Cervantes, Saavedra Miguel de (1547-1616)

DOK QUIXOTE E LA M ANOXIA Translated by P A Motteux Notes by J G Lock-
hart Introduction and supplementary Notes by L. B W alton, M A , B LITT 2 vols

Chrfitien de Troyes (fl. 12th cent ) 385 ~ 6

ARTHURIAN ROMANCES (*Broc ot Bnide , Climes , Yvain* and Lancelot*) Trans
lated into prose, with Introduction, notes and bibliography, by William Wistar
Comfort 698

Kalevala, or The Land of Heroes. Translated from the Finnish by W. F Kirby 2 vols

259-60

Mabmogion, The. Translated with Introduction by Thomas Jones, M A., 3D LITT , and
Qwyn Jones, MA 97

Malory, Sir Thomas (fl 1400 ?-70)

LE MQRTE D ARTiiUR Introduction by Sir John Rhys 2 vols. 45-6

Marie de France (12th century), LAYS OF, AND OTHER FRENCH LEGENDS Eight of
Marie s * Lais and two of he anonymous Fiench love stories of the same period
translated with an Introduction by Eugene Mason 557

NJal s Saga. THE STOEY OF BURNT NJAL (written about 1280-90) Translated from the
Icelandic by Sir O W Dasent (1861) Introduction (1057) and Index by Prof
Kdward Turville-Petre, B UTS., M A. 558

RabelaisJFVancois (1494?-1653) A ,

THE HEROIC DEEDS OF GARGANTTJA AND PANTAGRUBL, 1532-5 Introduction by
JD. B Wyndham L&uns 2 vols. A complete unabridged edition of Urouhart and
Motteux s translation, 1653-94 826-7

SCIENCE

Boyle, Robert (1627-91)

THE SCEPTICAL CITYMIST, 1661 Introduction by M M. PaMison Mwr. 559

Darwin, Charles (1809-82)

THB ORIGIN OF SPECIES, 1859 The sixth edition embodies Darwin s final additions
and revisions New Introduction (1956) by W. R Thompson, F R s 811

Eddlnston, Arthur Stanley (1882-1944) <S alao Travcl and Topography )

THE NATURE OF THE PHYSICAL WORLD, 1928 Introduction by Sir Edmund
Whittak&r, F R H , o M 922

Euclid (fl.c 330-c 275BO) ^ x ^ ^ ^ ^

TTIE ELEMENTS OF EUCLID Edited by Isaac Todhunter, with Introduction by Sir
Thomas L Heath, K o B , F R s 891

Faraday, Michael (1791-1867)

EXPERIMENTAL EBSEARCHBS IN ELECTRICITY, 1839-55 With Plates and Diagrams,
and an appreciation by Prof John Tyndall 576

Harvey, Wilham (1578-1657)

THE CIRCULATION OF THE BLOOD Introduction by Ernest Parkyn 262

Howard, John (1726 ?-90) , ,

THE STATM OF THE PRISONS, 1777. Intro and Notes by Kenneth Ruck 835

CAPITAL, 1807 Translated by JSden and Cedar Paul 2 vols Introduction by Prof
Cf. D H. Cole 8*8-9

Mill, John Stuart (1806-73) See Wollstonecraft

Owen, Robert (1771-1858) ^ T 4 ., . a . ^ rr

A NEW VIEW OF SOCIETY, 1813, and OTHER WRITINGS. Introduction by G D II
Cole 799

Pearson, Karl (1857-1936)

THE GRAMMAR OF SCIENCE, 1892. 039

Rioardo, David (1772-1823) _ . , ,,

THE PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL ECONOMY AND TAXATION, 1817 Introduction by
Prof Michael P ffogarty, MA. 590

THE WEALTH OF NATIONS, 1766, Intro by Prof JVdwin Seligman 2 rols. 412-13
A^ATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE, 1789 New edition (1949) Introduction and

WoUston 8 eoraft, Mary (1?59%7), THE BIGHTS OF WOMAN, 1792: and Mill, John Stuart
(1806-73), THE StrBJECTiON OF WOMEN, 1869. Now Introduction by Pamela

826
14

THEOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY
Ancient Hebrew Literature Being the Old Testament and

bv V^T/ST " LBARNINQ 1605 Iitextaothm, Notes, Index and Glossary
Berkeley, George (1685-1753) (See <aso Essa y s ) "

483

Httuaio MBDIOI, 1842 New Introduction by Halliday Sutherland, M D., F R s L
Bunyan, John (1628-88) 92

Giuoi ABQXJNMNG, 1666 .and THE LTPJB AND DEATH OF MR BADMAN 1658 Intro-

duotion by Prof. G B Hamson, MA, PH D. v* al ttnaJ" \&\ ?

Chinese Philosophy in Classical Times Covering the period 1500 BO -AD ToT ^i,?JS

and tmnalatod, with Introduction and Notes D 10 Edl J|t

Descartes, Ren& (1596-1650), 973

&$ l ffi$^J^&3S MfPyS^SS?^ *P** PHILOSOPHY,

Ellis, Havelock (1859-1939) * 57C

, /lor)) _^oen essays, with an Introduction by J, 5. CoKis 93C

Gore, Cnarles (lo >o lUoa)

THE PHILOHOPHY OF THE GOOD LIFR, 1930, 904

Hindu Scriptures Edited by Nicol Macnicol, M A , D LITT , D D Foreword by Rabin-

dranath Tagorf* QAA

Hobbw, Thomas (1588-1679). **

LEVIATHAN, 1651 Introduction by A, D. Lindsay, o B E LLD fifli

Hooker, Richard (1554-1600) oyi

OF Tim LAWS OF EGGLKBIASTIOAL POLITY, 1597 Introduction by (?. Moms, M A

Hume, David (1711-76). 201 ~ 2

ATEiCATlflBOFHxJMANNATtrRi; > 1739.Intro.by-4 D. Lindsay, O.B.E., LL D 2rols

James, William (1842-1910) 5i8 ~ 9

PAFBIW ON PHILOSOPHY Introduction by Prof. 0. M BakeweU 739

Kant, Immanuel (1724-1804) w" <^

OWTiqtTE OF PURE RKAHON, 1781 With an Introduction by A D Lindsay, O.B E
LL i>. Tranalated by J M. D. Meikleyohn. 909

Kfo( Edward VI (1537-53)

THE FIBST (1549) AND SECOND (1552) PRAYER BOOKS Introduction by Bishop
Gibson, 448

Koran, The. Kodwell a Trannlation, 1861. Intro by Rev Q Maraolioufh.M..jL 380

Law, William Q686-1761)

A BBRIOUB OAIX TO A DKVOXPT AND HOLY LIFE, 1728 Introduction by Prof Norman
tiykes.v B A , M A , D PHIL 91

Leibmz, Gottfried Wilhelm (1646-1716)

i k !HL080MUOA& WRITINGS Soloctod and translated by Mary Moms, with an
Introduction by C. R Moms, M A 905

iooke, John (1632-1704J

Two TBEATIBBR OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT, 1690. Introduction by Prof W S Car-
nentt^ (See also Essays ) 751

Malthus. Thomas Robert (1766-1834).

AN KHHAY ON THR PRINCIPLE OF PoptTLATiON, 1798 New Introduction by Prof
Michml JP. Faffartv, M.A. 2 vols 692-t

Mill, John Stuart (1800-73)

UTIWTAMANIHM, 1863j LIBERTY, 1859; and REPRESENTATIVE GOVERNMENT
1861. Introduction by A 1), Lindsay, OB E , LL D (See also Science ) 485

More, Sir Thomas (1478-1535) v

UTOPIA, 1516: and DIALOGUE OF COMFORT AGAINST TRIBULATION, 1553 Intro
duotton by John Warrwffton Revised edition (1951) 461

New Testament, The* 93

Newman, John Henry, Cardinal (1801-90)

APOLOGIA PEG VITA SXU, 1864, Introduction by Sir John Shane Leslie 636

(See also Essays )

Nietzsche, FrledWoh Wilhelm (1844-1900)

THUS SPASOB KAluTiroSTEA, 1883-91 Translated by Prof A. Title and revised by
M. M, Bomun. Introduction (1957) by Prof Roy Pascal, M A., D LITT 892

Paine, Thomas (1737-1800),

Iltonrs OF MAN, 1792 Introduction by Arthur Seldon. 718

Pasoal Biaise (1623-62).

PEN6to 1670, Translated by John Wamngton Introduction by Louis Lafwma.
This translation la from Lafuma s second edition. 874

Ramayana and Mahabharata. Ooadenaed into English verse by Ramesh Dutt, O.I.B. 403

15

Robinson, Wad (1838-76),

THE PHILOSOPHY or ATONBHBNT, AND OTHER SERMONS, 1875. Introduction by
F # Afryr. 637

Rousseau, Jean Jacques (1712-78).

TEE SOCIAL CONTRACT, 1762, and OTHKR ESSAYS. Introduction by D, H. Cole

<<Kfe teo Biograph

Saint Augustin* (353-430),

OoNPKtiHXONS. t)r Pusey s Translation, 1838, with. Introduction by A* JET.
stronff) M.At 200

THE CITY OP GOD. Complot text of John Healoy n Ullssabothan Translation, 1610
Edited by R V*& fToaXer, M.A., B.D , with an Introduction by *SV timest Marker
2 vols. 082-3

Saint Francis (11 82-1 220)

THB JLrrrws IfLowium, Tiro MIRROR OF PERFECTION (by Loo of AaslHi); and THE
Lira OF BT FBANOIR (by 8t Bonavontura) Xnteoduotion by Thomw Okey 485

Spinoza, Benedicts de (1632-77)

KTIIIOS, 1677 ; and ON THR OORREOTION OF THB tTNBTfltisTANinNo, 1087 Translated
by jixdrtw Boylf Now Introduction by T tf, Ortgory* 481

SwedoivborK. Emanuel (1088-1772).

Tim TRITE OHHIHTIAN RKUOION, 1771 Now and unabridff6d translation by F
Bayl&u Introduction by Dr Helen Kdler, 960 pages. 81)3

Thomas & Kempis (1380?-H71)

THE IMITATION OF OHRWT, 1471. 484

Thomas Aquinas (1225-74)

SELECTED WRITINGS Solootod and edited by Father M 0, D Arcy. 953

TRAVEL AND TOPOGRAPHY

Borrow, George (1803-81)

TUBS BIBLIQ IN SPAIN, 1842, Introduction by Itidward fT?ow<w. 151

WILD WALES* the People, Language and Soonory, 1862 Intro dxiotlon by Damd

Jones, o B B , the painter and Boworian (tie also Fiction.) 49

Boswell, James (1740-95)

JOURNAL OF A TotrR TO THB HEBRIDES WITH SAMITKL JOHNBON, 1786, Kditcd, with

a new Introduction, by Lawrence F. Powell, M.A., HON. i> LJCTT 387

Calderon de la Barca, Mmo (1804-82)

LIFK IN Mexico. 1843 Introduction by Manuel Romero De Terrew. 664

Cobbett, William (1762-1835)

RURAL RIDISB, 1830 Introduction by Asa Bngff8> M.A , B.SG 2 vols, 038-9

Cook, James (1728-79)

VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY Edited by John Etarrow, F R,s. F.S.A. Introduction by

Quy Pocock, MA 99

Orevecosur, J Hector St John de (1736-1813)

LBTTBRS FROM AN AMERICAN FARMER, 1782 Intro and Notoa by W. Barton Blake

640
Darwin, Charles (1809-82),

TIIK VOYAGE OF Tira BBJAGM/ 1839 (SM also Soionoo ) 104

Detoe, Daniel (10G1?-1731)

A TotrR THROCGH ENGLAND AND WALKS, 1724-0. Intro by G D JJ, Oole 2 Yols

(See also Fiction.) 820-1
Kinjrlake, Alexander (1809-91)

EOTHEN, 1844 Introduction by Harold Spender 337

Lane, Edward William (1801-76)

MANNEHH AND CUSTOMS OF THE MODERN KGYTTIANS, 1836 With a new Introduoti on

by Moursi ISaad el-Jhn, ot the Egyptian Miniatry of Education 315

Park, Mungo (1771-1806)

TRAVELS Introduction (1954) by Prof Ronald MilUr, M A , ra D. 205

Polo, Maroo (1254-1324)

TRAVELS Introduction by John Masefield 308

Portuguese Voyages, 1408-1663 Hditod by Charles Dawd Lev. 986

Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850-94)

AN INLAND VOYAGE, 1878, TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY, 1879, and Tnw BILVERADO

SQXTATTBRB, 1883 New Introduction by M R Ridley, M A 760

(See also JtiHHayfi, Pocky, Fiction )
Stow, John (1525 1-1605)

THE SURVEY OF LONDON The fullest account of Elizabethan London, 589

Wakefleld, Edward Gibbon (1796-1 8 02)

A LETTER FROM SYDNEY. AND OTHER WRITINGS ON COLONISATION Introduction

by Prof R O Mtlls 828

Waterton, Charles (1782-1865)

WANDERINGS IN SOOTH AMERICA, 1825 Introduction by Edmund Selous, 772

16

Continued from front flap}

trial gives special value to a book that was all
but forgotten for over three centuries.

By courtesy of the Early English Text
Society the texts of both Lives (which they
issued in 1932 and 1935) with modernized
spellings are used in this edition, and are there
fore authoritative.

More as a man was gentle and beloved, and
Roper s picture is supported by Erasmus s letter to
Ulrich von Hutten giving another glimpse of his
home life, where everybody performeth his duty;
yet is there always alacrity; neither is sober mirth
anything wanting . Yet More faced privation and
martyrdom in as brave a spirit and unshakable
faith as any man. He was twice called to Lambeth
to acknowledge Henry VIII as head of the Church,
and, refusing to deny his Faith, was committed to
the Tower. During his long confinement there he
wrote his famous Dialogue of Comfort, which is
included with his best-known work, Utopia, in
No. 461.

The Dialogue affords a vision of More s soul in
his hour of trial, full of doubts and fears, yet full
of tranquillity and his old * sober mirth*. He shows
how the goods of this world, whether of mind or
body, and even life itself, are not worth the loss of
eternal life.

The Utopia consists of two books. In the first
More criticizes social life at the beginning of the
sixteenth century and in particular the misuse
of private property, with the concentration of
riches, especially of land, in the hands of a few
powerful corporations. The second book portrays
an opposite picture to the tyranny and corruption
which he had found everywhere. Here an ideal
society is in existence on an imaginary island, where
private property is unknown, and manual labour
is looked upon as the sole occupation profitable to
the State. The Utopia reflects Plato s Republic, and
shows the influence of St Augustine; but in con
fronting all the evils of his day, and suggesting a
philosophical remedy for them, More contributes
his own thesis.

Sir Thomas More was beatified by Leo XIII
in 1886, and canonized by Pius XI in 1935.

Printed in Great Britain at the Aldine Press,
Letdmrth, Herts 0L| 764)

1963, Wrapper design: J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd

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